


The Blend of Marmora

by ptw30



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Fluff and Angst, I've loaded this with aus, Keith is a barista, M/M, Minor Allura/Lotor (Voltron), Minor Hunk/Shay (Voltron), Minor Lance/Pidge | Katie Holt, Movie Star AU, Mutual Pining, SHEITH - Freeform, Shiro is a movie star, and they are MFEO, if they can get their acts together, they are also high school sweethearts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2020-06-26 16:26:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 39,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19772023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ptw30/pseuds/ptw30
Summary: Betrayed by a close friend, Shiro returns home to the small town of Marmora to reconnect with the friends and family he missed, including the boyfriend who dumped him five years ago. Trust returns easy but staying proves hard as secrets come to light and Shiro needs to decide between the role of the lifetime and his career.





	1. Five years, two months, three days, and seven hours, but who’s counting?

**Author's Note:**

> Cuz we all need a little more fluff in our lives - a coffee shop/small town/movie star au.

Every couple of years, Shiro found himself drawn to his hometown of Marmora, a rural New England village less than two hours from Boston. He’d retreat to his grandfather’s old Victorian house, an aging home with restored wedgewood blue siding and immaculate white trim. Shiro loved coming to Marmora during autumn, when the crisp golds and vibrant orange and red leaves framed the front facing tower and side turrets.

With the house only steps from Main Street, Shiro could see the town’s only streetlight and the corridor of turn-of-the-century storefronts from his bedroom room. He used to do his homework from the window seat in the tower and look down at the corner coffee shop, which was owned by the town’s curmudgeon, Kolivan. It wasn’t that the man was overtly rude, but Kolivan was a demanding man who suffered fools poorly. On days when his best friend Keith had a shift after school, Shiro would take up the café’s largest table. Kolivan never let him get away with it, though the owner never uttered a single word. Instead, he just stared at Shiro until he collected his books and found a smaller table. 

It seemed like a lifetime ago, Shiro mused as he pulled his black Charger into one of the parking spaces lining the town’s corridor. Shiro never dreamt of leaving Marmora, but a school play, a single meeting with an agent, and one horrific car crash later found him living on California’s warm coast. 

While he’d find his way to Marmora every so often, he’d never returned with two duffels, his aptly named cat Black, and his car, not a rental. It was only sheer luck that he’d been in New York, completing interviews for his latest movie, when the leaks dropped. Shiro packed without thinking and drove without a destination, somehow finding himself in New England by dawn. 

From the passenger seat, Black flicked his tail at Shiro and let out a tiny meow, demanding attention. Shiro was all too happy to oblige, scratching behind Black’s ears before snatching his beanie and sunglasses. 

Sure, his white tuff would still peek out from underneath the wool hat, but no one would give him a second glance. Shiro was surprised anyone did after that drunk driver slammed into his car almost seven years ago, but Shiro banished that thought from his mind. It was too early in the morning to be melancholy. 

The autumn leaves crunched under Shiro’s boots. Their vibrant colors created a welcoming display that contrasted the cool air that formed tiny clouds in front of his mouth. Nostalgia hit him hard and held on quick, and it was perhaps the only reason he entered the Blend of Marmora Coffee Shoppe and Bakery. 

After almost eight hours on the road, Shiro needed a venti sugar free Caramel Macchiato skim, extra shot, extra hot with extra whip to make it the few extra blocks home.

The corner cafe embraced its placement with a few tables huddled beneath umbrellas, a remodeled interior with booths, a long bar, and a bright new row of floor-to-ceiling windows where the far wall used to be. Faded white shiplap contrasted with the stained furniture to give the cafe a vintage look, though the modernized coffee machine and silver-tone lighting curated a refreshed, modern feel. An assortment of breakfast sandwiches and to-go items joined the sugary delights, which appeared to get an overhaul as well with new cakes, cookies, and pastries. 

As Shiro got on the back of the line, which weaved between tumblers and bags of gourmet coffee, he made his choices then checked his email. Two messages from Matt about potential movie deals, including one directed by a certain Oscar winner who requested Shiro personally. A few messages for appearances, a reminder to set up his next headshot session, and of course, one email from someone who found his address and wanted a comment about the pictures printed in the latest celebrity tabloids. 

He deleted that one with one swipe before opening his texts to respond to Allura’s request for dinner. She’d messaged him almost two days prior, then again just yesterday, after being away for three months in New Orleans filming her latest flick. He missed her terribly, but any time she and he got together, the media were sure to follow.

He needed to get away from the spotlight, at least for a little while. 

“Hey, buddy. What canna get ya?”

Shiro started, gaze slowly rising to meet the barista’s jovial blue eyes. Shiro held his breath at the sight of Lance, of all people, dressed in a Blend of Marmora hat and apron, his smile not reaching his eyes. 

“Hey, buddy. You wanna tell me your order, or are you just gonna stand there and admire the view?”

Yup, that was Lance, now twenty-three and an assistant manager, holding himself with confidence that was no longer manufactured. He’d grown a good half-foot, almost meeting Shiro’s eyes, and his short cut hair peaked out over his visor. He’d filled out, too, shirt and apron tight around his chest and biceps. 

Huh. Five years changed them all, hadn’t it? And Lance didn’t even recognize him. Maybe that was for the best. 

“Just a coffee, black, with sugar. And a scone. Raspberry.”

Lance served him the total, the scone, and then told him to get his drink at the end of the bar. As Shiro made his way around the counter, his breath caught in his throat. The barista was just a smidge shorter than Lance with a swimmer’s build and a tight red shirt that showcased his assets. A lengthy braid tamed the black hair, and intense indigo eyes offset his soft features. A scar cut diagonally across his right cheek and mirrored the aging scar across Shiro’s nose. 

Keith. His best friend, ex-boyfriend, one-time everything. 

Shiro reminded himself to breathe again and took a few steps back to stand behind the rest of the patrons waiting for their morning brew. He watched Keith work, strong hands pounding the grounds into the portafilter, locking it into the grouphead, and blowing the steam wand. His tongue swiped along his bottom lip before his front teeth worried the soft, pale flesh. 

Only a year younger than Shiro, Matt, and Hunk, and in the same grade with Lance and Pidge, Keith easily joined their group when he came to Marmora the summer before high school. A million memories flashed in Shiro’s mind, from lunches in the high school courtyard and late-night texts to coffee break dates and sensual adventures in the fields or in the back of movie theatres. 

And that one time, after homecoming, under the bleachers. Keith’s long bangs had framed his face, thanks to the rain pouring upon the field, and his eyes glowed in the twilight hours. Shiro cupped those flushed cheeks, and Keith leaned into his hands, mouth opening as Shiro’s thumbs brushed back his wayward strands. Shiro dipped his head to seize those pale lips – unfortunately at the exact same moment Keith pushed up on his toes. Their foreheads smacked together, but once the pain and embarrassment subsided, Keith ordered him to stay put, grabbed his head, and tugged him down to share quite a few firsts. 

“Mrs. Dalterion,” Keith called, and Shiro watched as Trigel Dalterion, the high school algebra teacher, picked up her latte. She took a sip, complemented Keith’s balance of milk and espresso, and went on her way. Axca, Regris, and Nadia all got their drinks before Keith slipped a collar onto a cup and called, “Latte for…” Eyebrows met, voice wondering as it rambled, “A cap and sunglasses can’t hide your appearance. I know it’s you, Shiro.” Keith’s eyes snapped up and found Shiro’s eyes instantly, his own shimmering. “S-Shiro?”

“Come on, Shiro,” Lance yelled from the front of the shop. “You seriously didn’t think I recognized you?”

It seemed to take all of Shiro’s strength to lift his foot, and Keith pulled him into orbit like he’d done most of Shiro’s life. Shiro lifted his sunglasses onto his beanie, and the edge of his lips tugged upward into a half-smile. 

“Hey, Keith. It’s…been a long time.”

Five years, two months, three days, and seven hours. But who was counting?

Keith’s eyes closed — clamped shut — before he dared to open them again. “Shiro, you’re back? In Marmora?”

“Yeah, uh…” Shiro rung the back of his neck. Why were his hands clammy and his stomach tumbling? “…just for a bit. Stopping by to see Ojiisan. Where’re your uncles? Kolivan finally retire?”

Placing the latte on the counter, Keith shrugged and grabbed an unmarked cup. “Kolivan and Antok are at a tasting excursion in Boston. Then a few days in Cape Cod. Ulaz and Thace are manning the second store over in Thaldycon.”

“I’m doing great, thanks!” Lance interjected before shouting into the back room. “Hey, Hunk! Get out here.”

Shiro jerked up. “Hunk works here, too?”

The milk bubbled in the steel pitcher before Keith pulled it away from the steam wand. “Yeah. He does the pastries, makes the artisan sandwiches.”

“Don’t tell me. Pidge handles your Wi-Fi.”

Keith’s smile was still precious and something to cherish. “Please. Pidge runs the town’s internet, between hacking tax returns of government officials and placing them online.”

Leaning on the elbow, Shiro lifted up his coffee and almost coughed in surprise. Lance had ordered his venti sugar free Caramel Macchiato skim, extra shot, extra hot with extra whip – and Keith made it, just like old times. 

“Lance, what you yelling about! My margarine is already starting to – Shiro!” Hunk abandoned his mixing bowl and spatula, and hurried about the counter to capture Shiro in a tight bear hug. “Where have you been? How are you?”

Shiro could just sink into Hunk’s warm embraces. “I’m – I’m doing good. Just stopping by. Maybe staying a few days.”

“You’ve ‘stayed a few days’ before and never stopped in to say hi,” Lance said with air quotes. “Bringing the new boyfriend home to meet Ojiisan?”

Ice immediately formed in Shiro’s gut as he recalled the last twenty-four hours. Something must have flashed across his face because Hunk was there in a moment, wiping a hand. “Lance, cut it out, all right?”

“What? I’m not the one dating the most eligible bachelor in Hollywood and flaunting it around the tabloids.”

“That’s not what Shiro’s doing,” Keith grumbled, though Shiro could see the slight tremble his eyes. “You can’t blame Shiro for the photographers – ”

“I’m not dating anyone,” Shiro announced, fast. “I just needed a few days away, all right? Thanks for the coffee.”

He grabbed his scone and started out, though Lance caught him. “Would it have killed you to stop in once and a while and say hello? We were your friends once, and Keith here – ”

“Lance!” Keith and Hunk scolded at the same time, but by then, Shiro had stopped. With a quick glance at Keith, he sighed. “I wasn’t sure I’d be welcome.”

“Of course you’re welcome here,” Keith said, as if it was common sense or irrefutable truth. “You’re always welcome.”

Shiro wasn’t sure what to say to that, but as if sensing the sudden awkwardness, Hunk cleared his throat. “Hey, Keith. You working on Ojiisan’s drink?”

He blew two shots of steam. “Almost done.”

Shoulders slumping, Lance headed toward the pastry section. “I’ll get the chocolate croissant.”

Shiro took a step forward. “Wait! Ojiisan is – ”

“ – diabetic. I know.” Hunk patted Shiro on the back as the café’s line lengthened with the morning rush. “Don’t worry. We watch out for him. It’s sugar-free.”

Lance quickly placed the bag on the counter, eyes pointed and unforgiving. “You really going to be around for a few days?”

Numb, Shiro managed, “Yeah. Probably a little longer.”

“Then you better stop in again. Don’t lock yourself away in your tower, all right?” Then he was off as Keith served a latte and a tentative smile. 

Shiro remembered it as private, one of those smiles Keith reserved for late night meet-ups and quiet moments, like the times Keith would climb the tree next to his bedroom to knock on the window. It never ceased to steal Shiro’s breath. 

“It’s good to see you, Shiro,” Keith said. “You look – You look good.”

Shiro replied without thinking, “Thanks. You do, too.”

Black mewled and crossed his lap once Shiro sat down in his car. He drove around the block to the large Victorian home and took the steps two at a time. When he entered the house, he wasn’t surprised to find Ojiisan up and dressed, getting ready for his daily walk to the Blend of Marmora café. After a moment of surprise, his grandfather greeted him with a warm embrace and asked more questions with his eyes than his words. 

“I just needed to be home for a while,” Shiro sighed. 

And home meant more than a simple house in the village of Marmora. 

_To be continued..._


	2. Small town, big mouths

Shiro awoke to the sound of the tap, tap, tap of nimble fingers across a keyboard. He didn’t need to roll over to know Pidge sat at the window seat of his turret, cap backwards. Wearing an overly large sweatshirt, sleeves bunched at her elbows, a bag pressed against her hip, tight jeans—she looked like the overworked college student she wasn’t. When she stopped typing, Shiro could imagine her eyes narrowing, glasses falling to the bridge of her nose, before she commenced her keyboard attack.

Shiro pulled his covers over his head and tried his best not to moan. “Don’t you have somewhere better to be?”

The typing never ceased. “Tell me who it was. I’ll hack their phone and – ”

“No, Pidge.” The offer was tempting, far too tempting, but Shiro wouldn’t stoop to revenge by having his little sister hack a person’s private photos and throw them up online for ridicule.

“Come on.” She snapped shut her computer, and a moment later, the bed sagged where she’d sat next to his head. “Won’t even take a half an hour and then you can do what they did to you.”

Not quite but Shiro appreciated the sentiment all the same. “You’re not going to let me go back to sleep, are you?”

Pidge twitched a shoulder. “You’re an entertainer. Figured now that you’re up, you can entertain me.”

Shiro threw off his covers and sat up, wearing only a set of dark briefs. “I’m an _actor,_ not an entertainer.”

Pidge raised an eyebrow. “With those abs?”

“That’s just from the neck down, Pidge.”

A snort. “Only you, Shiro. Only you.”

Shiro stood and headed into the bathroom off his bedroom, not surprised when Pidge followed with her laptop. She sat cross-legged on the bathroom floor, back to Shiro as he brushed his teeth and did his business. He never quite understood what the others saw when they made those comments. A dash of white hair, a scar across his face, nothing spectacular or breathtaking like Lotor or Allura. Both held themselves with such grace and poise, and they could stop the world with just a smile.

He just filled space on the screen.

“You sure you don’t want me to hack their phone?”

Shiro rolled his eyes and pulled off his briefs. “ _His_ and no. And why are you here anyway?”

“Matt,” Pidge said with another fury of key strokes. “He said you didn’t message last night, and you always message him.”

“I was busy.”

“With Ojiisan?”

“He doesn’t like cell phones at dinner.”

“And dinner took how long last night?”

Shiro tugged shut his shower curtain. “Don’t you have anywhere else to be?”

“You don’t want me here?”

Oh. When Pidge used _that_ voice – sweet and somehow scary – she wanted something.

Shiro was glad to hide behind the shower curtain, his breathless tone lost to the clamoring of the droplets. “I don’t need a babysitter. I’m fine.”

“If you were fine, you would have texted Matt back.”

Touché.

Shiro was halfway through his conditioner before Pidge called out again, “How long are you staying?”

“Tell Matt I’m not taking that B-movie.”

“Can’t be worse _Return to Beta Traz.”_

That was true. “Pidge – ”

“I saw Keith today, at the shop.”

There was more to that. He just knew it. “I would assume you see him every day at the shop.”

“Yeah, but not like this. He was smiling.”

Shiro somehow held in his moan and covered his face with both hands. He could picture Keith smiling in the back of his mind, face warming as Shiro walked into the café every morning and evening or eyes shimmering in the moonlight as they sat on Shiro’s roof, pink lips wet and cheeks flushed after a heated embrace.

“So?” Shiro scrubbed the memory from his mind as he scrubbed his hair. “Keith has a beautiful smile.”

Shit. He said that out loud, didn’t he?

“Yeah, I haven’t seen it in five years,” Pidge said, sounding closer to the curtain. “Look, you left, but Keith stayed. And he can’t get away from you – tabloids, soc-med, movies. I love you, Takashi. You know that, but hurt him again and no firewall will protect you.”

Shiro tugged the curtain back, just above his waist, and the words flew from his mouth before he could catch them. “You ever think that maybe I wasn’t the one who…”

Pidge glared, face fierce and eyes condemning. “…the one who?”

Shiro deflated. It didn’t matter how their relationship ended, did it? If Shiro didn’t want to remember Keith, he didn’t have to look at his cell phone’s pictures. He didn’t have to see the homecoming picture or the one he snapped of Keith asleep on his bed or the one Allura took before Shiro’s first Golden Globes. Keith was handsome in a tuxedo, his hair pulled back, no tie but a red vest and an open jacket.

But Keith only had to open any social media app or go to the movies, and he’d be reminded of their time together.

Their _life_ together.

Shiro tugged the curtain closed. “Message received, Pidge.”

“Great.” Her voice lightened, and she sounded like his kid sister again. “Then come down for breakfast, all right? Ojiisan went to the café already and brought back some pastries.”

“Yeah, yeah. Be down in a few.”

A quick jingle, the gurgling sound of a toilet flushing, and then –

“PIDGE!”

Ice cold water rained down upon him as Pidge’s laughter echoed from the bedroom.

* * *

Colleen sat at the kitchen table when Shiro came down the stairs, and for a moment, he was fifteen again. His hair still dripped, his muscles ached from football practice, and his sleep was stunted from a late-night study session with Matt.

At least he didn’t have to cross town when staying with Matt. Shiro had his own room at the Holts, just like Matt and Pidge had rooms at Ojiisan’s. After Shiro’s parents passed away and Pidge and Matt’s died in an unfortunate skiing accident, Colleen and Ojiisan engaged in joint parenting. Every football game, Ojiisan sliced oranges for the team, but Colleen wore Shiro’s away jersey. Ojiisan and Shiro attended Matt’s debate club meets, and Shiro took care of those creeps who made fun of PIdge in class, even if she never knew.

Shiro, Matt, and Pidge spent evenings at the university doing homework while Ojiisan taught his astrophysics classes and Colleen tended to her research in the botany department.

Matt and Pidge were Shiro’s siblings in every way but blood, Colleen his second mother, and Ojiisan became Matt and Pidge’s surrogate grandfather.

Colleen grabbed her coffee tumbler from Ojiisan before kissing Pidge on the head and reminding her to meet at Narti’s pizzeria downtown for dinner. She pushed on her toes to press a kiss to Shiro’s cheek, adding, “I expect to see you there, too, young man. We’ll even get a double-meat for you.”

“Mom, don’t spoil him,” Pidge whined, then huffed from Ojiisan took her laptop from the table. “Hey! I need that.”

“Not at the breakfast table,” Ojiisan chastised. “You know better, Pigeon.”

“I’ll see you all tonight.” Colleen smiled a warm grin at Shiro and squeezed his arm again. “Don’t run off before then.”

“Not planning to run off anywhere,” he replied, though he needed to rethink that when Pidge muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like Spanish. Ojiisan turned and sent her a solid scolding, also in Spanish, and by the time he finished, Pidge’s back was rail-straight.

“Why you did not go into linguistics is beyond me,” Ojiisan said before sighing at Shiro. “Four languages, fluent in three, and still, she wishes to speak to computers.”

Shiro took the to-go cup from the holder and clipped back the opening. “And we live in one of the most beautiful places in the world, and yet you only want to look at the stars.”

“Says the boy who used to sneak into astrology classes when he was fourteen.”

“Is it my fault those lecture halls don’t take attendance, Professor of Astronomy and Physics and co-chair of the department?”

“Ah. I see you wanted to vacuum the second floor this afternoon. I’m glad you volunteered.”

Yup, Shiro was definitely fifteen again.

Once Ojiisan turned for a pastry, Pidge pointed and mutedly laughed, while Shiro narrowed his eyes. He still hadn’t forgotten about her flushing. He pointed two fingers toward his own eyes, then at her, but Pidge just shrugged and stole the last raspberry scone.

After breakfast, Shiro headed upstairs with the vacuum but stopped at the second door to the right. Since Pidge left it open a crack, Shiro glimpsed inside to see what constituted Pidge’s room. A metal framework served as her desk with an elaborate set up of servers, computers, and multiple screens. A few jade, ferns, and cactus plants nestled against a tiny green lion doll, a blue lion doll, a Funko Pop! Figurine of Shiro from _The Black Paladin,_ and a beach chair cellphone holder. Black navigated the knickknacks to jump into Pidge’s lap as she sat in the middle of the chaos, legs crossed on her desk chair, green cat headphones in place.

Shiro barely took a step inside, eyeing everything at once. When had Pidge set up her consulting business at Ojiisan’s place?

Pidge noticed him almost immediately, swiveling around in her chair. She smiled, though a sad truth lingered in her eyes and on her lips.

“He fell down the stairs once, was there a few hours before Mom found him.” She shrugged and twisted around toward her screen, scratching the top of Black’s head until he purred. “Figured it’d be better for everyone if someone was here most days, y’know?”

Shiro’s voice rose barely over a whisper. “No one told me. I would’ve come home. I could’ve —”

“You were on location. Somewhere in the Middle East, I think? That Zarkon Daibazaal flick? By the time Matt got through, Ojiisan was already home.” She hit the on-button to a video game he didn’t recognize. “Tag-team effort, remember? I keep the folks in line, Matt keeps you in line, you keep Matt in line. No worries, Shiro. I got the home front.”

But she shouldn’t have to, not all alone, and who looked out for Katie?

The sound of a high-pitched meow startled Shiro, but Pidge swiped her phone. “Oh, hey. Lance is up for some gaming tonight. You wanna join?”

Shiro doubted Lance wanted him to tag along, and it’d been forever since he’d played anything. “Thanks, but gonna take a raincheck. Vacuuming and all.”

“Cool.” She went back to typing, an excited look upon her face, and Shiro wondered how he’d missed _that._

Vacuuming took most of the morning, but by mid-afternoon, he was pulling on his running pants and strapping his iPhone to his bicep. His right arm ached at the port from being back in Northeast humidity, but the adrenaline would take care of that once he began his six miles—along the back roads, past the school and fields, and through the main thorofare. He waved at Dayak, stopped long enough to help Olia set up the soccer field, and wrangled Marvok’s dog.

By the time he reached the Blend of Marmora, Keith was gone for the day and Lance ran the shop. Lance noticed Shiro peering through the window and waved him in.

When Shiro hesitated, Lance shouted, “Don’t make me come out and drag you inside!”

There were some things Shiro doubted, but Lance’s determination was not one of them. With a sigh, Shiro tugged out his earbuds and in his sweat-soaked shirt, entered the café. Lance’s lips twisted in a grin, one Shiro couldn’t quite place, as he leaned an elbow upon the counter.

“Nice of you to join us today. The usual?”

At this rate, he wouldn’t fit into his pants by the end of the week. “Just an iced coffee.”

Lance wrote too many letters on the side of the cup for a simple cold drink and then grabbed two scones. Seriously – Matt was not going to like this.

“Taking my twenty!” Lance yelled back, snatching the two drinks Romelle made.

“You’re the manager on duty,” she said with an exaggerated eye-roll. “You don’t need to shout.”

“Yeah, but that’s half the fun.”

“Don’t you only get a fifteen?” Shiro asked as he took his usual seat at the corner table – the one where he could see the entire café and watch Keith work.

Lance dropped a scone and drink in front of Shiro. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is the millionaire whining if I take an extra five minutes at my retail service job?”

Shiro would have pretended to be offended, but he didn’t exactly know the figure in his bank account. Matt took care of all that and allocated funds where necessary.

“Getting a feel for the town again?” Lance mumbled through a bite. “Mama texted that you ran past the firehouse earlier. Had to stop Veronica from putting on the sirens and following you.”

Shiro long lost his embarrassment over his body from the neck down. “I’m surprised you weren’t there. I thought you always wanted to be a firefighter like the rest of your family.”

“And give up my glorious position as assistant manager at the Blend of Marmora?”

Shiro cocked an eyebrow. “You work for Keith.”

“ _Keith_ works for _me,_ ” Lance laughed, pointing to the title on his name tag. “He’s just a barista at this joint.”

That didn’t make sense. “Keith’s uncle owns this place.”

“What can they say? Kolivan values loyalty.” With a shrug, Lance broke a corner off his scone. “Besides, I’m only a semester away from finishing my masters in Systems Engineering Management. Figured I’d finish that up before deciding what to do next.”

“A masters in Systems Engineering Management?” Shiro echoed. He had missed a lot. “Congratulations. That’s wonderful. What made you go into that field of study?”

“Mullet coaxed me into his aerospace engineering classes at Marmora. Then, of course, he abandons me sophomore year but whatever. I survived without him. Not sure he can say the same.”

Shiro took a sip of his coffee, suddenly hyper aware of the wet shirt clinging to his chest. He opened his mouth to respond, but Lance inserted, “I know what happened. What _really_ happened. Keith told me. Gotta be honest, man. I don’t think I would have come back if he did that to me, even if I did win the break-up.”

Dread sliced through Shiro’s gut, but he pushed it aside. Lance was the most outgoing and personable of his friends in Marmora and wouldn’t have brought it up unless he had a good reason.

“I didn’t win the break-up.”

Lance snorted. “You’re a movie star. You can have anyone you want…well, almost anyone.”

“I didn’t come back for Keith, Lance,” or so he kept telling himself.

Lance froze in mid-bite and then leaned back in his chair. “Please. You don’t even know why you came home.”

Shiro held no doubt that Lance kept tabs on his social media account and knew exactly what brought him back to Marmora. “You’re not going to make me say it, are you?”

“I know why you _think_ you’re home, but do you know why you’re _actually_ here?”

“I needed to be away from Hollywood for a bit, distance myself from Sendak and the media who’ll make a bigger deal out of this than it is.”

“If it wasn’t a big deal, then you wouldn’t be here. You’d just ride it like you’ve done with every other rumor.”

All right. Shiro would play Lance’s game. “So then why am I here?”

Lance met his eyes with a burning, laser-focused stare. “Because when the whole world is against you, you know there are seven people who aren’t. Six of them are in Marmora.”

Technically, Shiro could trust Allura and Lotor, so the count was ten, all together, but Lance didn’t care about the specific number.

“And,” Lance began, taking a long sip of his iced coffee, “there’s only one person in the world who hurt you more than whoever is releasing those pics. Somewhere in that brain of yours, you think if you can figure out what happened with Keith, maybe you can understand why this person would betray you, too.”

Shiro shifted in his seat, his shirt uncomfortably wet and tight against his chest. He had yet to take a single bite of his scone.

That couldn’t be it – could it?

“I came to see Ojiisan,” he stammered, “to get out of the limelight and – ”

“Yeah, no.” Lance finished off the rest of his scone and brushed the crumbs from his hands. “If that were the case, you would have gone straight to Ojiisan’s house. You would never have stopped here on the way. You didn’t how many times before.”

Shiro sat back in the chair, allowing Lance to steal his pastry. The words settled uncomfortably under his skin, but he couldn’t find a way to refute them. He’d wanted to see Keith, wanted to speak with him, after years with only a few pictures on his phone to sustain him. Perhaps it was foolish to carry around pictures of your ex, but Keith was more than a former boyfriend. He was his best friend, his first love, his only love.

His everything – or at least, he had been at one time.

“Where is Keith?” Shiro asked.

Lance’s straw squealed as he pulled it up. “Hunk took him up to the orchards. They go every week to get fresh fruit for the pastries.”

Shiro struggled to imagine Keith sniffing fruit and picking the freshest bunch. As if understanding Shiro’s confusion, Lance added, “Hunk’s girlfriend Shay – you haven’t met her, right? – she puts the best aside for us. I think Keith loads the car while Hunk says hi to Shay. And maybe a few other words, too.”

Shiro debated but surrendered to the nudging in his gut. “I’d like to meet Shay. If Hunk loves her, I’m sure she’s someone special.”

“Yeah?” Lance’s face brightened, and his true smile was the gift Shiro remembered. “All right. I’ll let him know. Maybe you could tag along next weekend.”

That meant he would be staying in Marmora through the next week. Somehow, that didn’t seem as impossible as it had in the past.

When Lance stood, he moved to put a hand on Shiro’s shoulder but aborted the gesture. “I know you missed me. I’m kinda hard not to, y’know? But we missed you, too. A lot. Just…you need to know that.”

Left to his coffee and thoughts, Shiro sipped and leaned back in his chair and allowed himself to acknowledge the truth.

He left for Hollywood, but he’d stayed away for Keith.

_To be continued..._


	3. Saturday night at the movies

The days passed quicker than Shiro guessed they ever could as he fell into a quasi-routine. Running through the town, getting breakfast at the café, returning home to find Pidge working on the love seat or in her office. Shiro spent most of his days working around the house – cleaning the gutters, fixing the squeaky porch door, sanding and then finishing the backstairs – and he ended the day lying stomach down across the couch every evening. Pidge usually sat on his legs until one of them fell asleep.

He read Matt’s suggestions for guest spots, a few TV pilots, and a handful of blockbusters while Colleen sat in the love chair and completed her research. Ojiisan took the recliner, grading his astrophysics’ class papers.

The family sometimes took up residence at the Holts, doing the same thing but Shiro sat cross-legged in a lounger while Pidge somehow stretched across the entire couch. Her computer was like an extension of herself, taking up the last cushion.

Shiro snapped a quick picture to send to Matt and maybe post on Instagram later.

When the weekend came, Shiro met Shay. She was breathtaking in every way, from her intense eyes to her sweet tone to her utter infatuation with Hunk. Hunk shared her feelings, holding her hands and staring into her eyes, and Shiro texted Matt to set aside enough money to pay for the couple’s wedding, honeymoon, first house, and college tuition for each of their however-many unborn children. He’d pay for it all.

Keith skipped the trip with the excuse he had to visit the second shop to help Ulaz and Thace with bookkeeping. Shiro knew the routine. Despite their initial greeting, Keith avoided him by working out at the gym in the morning and running opposite Shiro, but Shiro figured their paths would cross eventually.

During the middle of his third week in Marmora, Shiro noticed the browning leaves collecting on Ojiisan’s lawn and found the rake in the basement. After grabbing a beanie and an old Marmora University sweatshirt, he headed out to the yard. He cleaned a little over half when white sneakers and a pair of faded jeans entered his view.

“You don’t have to do that, y’know,” Keith said, holding two insulated cups. He wore an incredulous frown along with his Blend of Marmora apron, a scarf, and cut-off gloves. “You’re a movie star. You can hire someone to do that for you.”

“I prefer the term ‘actor,’ and I wasn’t doing anything.” Shiro jerked a shoulder and took a long drag of the grass to prove his point. “Figured I should accomplish something today other than fixing dinner and sorting my whites and colors.”

Keith glanced around the neighborhood, then looked Shiro up and down. “Aren’t you afraid someone’s going to take a picture and post it online?”

“You know how this town is.” Shiro propped his elbow upon the rake’s handle. “Ms. Dalterion, Mr. Nalquod, and Ms. Sanda like to gossip amongst themselves. They don’t need to loop anyone else in, and why would anyone _here_ want to put a picture of me online?”

“Because you won a Golden Globe last year.”

The smile came easily to Shiro’s lips. “Wasn’t an Oscar. And besides – most people here remember me with pimples and braces. I’m no one special to them.”

Keith’s smile was warmer than any sweater as he handed Shiro one of the cups. “You’ll always be someone special to me.”

“Thanks, Keith.”

He wasn’t surprised the Blend of Marmora cup held a venti sugar free caramel macchiato skim, extra shot, extra hot with extra whip. Of course Keith would bring his favorite drink, just like Shiro would never forget that Keith only drank chai lattes with the exception of a few peppermint mochas around the holidays.

Shiro watched, mesmerized, as Keith lifted his own cup to his mouth, lips pursed about the edges. “I hope you don’t mind me interrupting your brief lapse into normalcy. I was cleaning off the outside tables and saw you. Thought you might be cold.”

The benefits of living only a street away from the corner café. Shiro had spent half his afternoons as a kid watching Keith clean the tables from his second-story bedroom window. He’d spent the other half in the cafe’s corner table, pretending to study but watching his best friend-later-boyfriend work.

He wondered every so often if he’d never left that table, where they’d be now? Married? Divorced? Still best friends?

Where were they now?

Shiro crouched to place his cup on the edge of the sidewalk, then fell backwards into the pile of the leaves. They used to lie like this during the autumn months, usually during twilight to see the stars emerge from their daytime slumber, and Shiro mused his favorite star returned when Keith loomed over him, eyebrows pinched with worry. Shiro shifted to give him more space, and a moment later, the leaves crunched and sighed as Keith fell back into them.

They sat in companionable silence, just staring up at the serene blue sky, before Keith muttered, “ _Escape from Beta Traz_ was all right. _Return to Beta Traz_ – not so much.”

Shiro laughed. “That was the consensus.”

“Why’d you do the sequel?”

“Signed a three-movie deal. I was just happy they stopped at the second.”

“Lance said the only redeeming quality was that shirtless scene between you and Allura.” The leaves swished as Keith looked over, eyes as dark and sparkling as the night sky. “I don’t know. It wasn’t all that hot.”

Shiro arched an eyebrow. “But you did think it was somewhat hot?”

Shiro heard the shrug in Keith’s voice. “I guess. Most people don’t remember you in that tight shirt following homecoming. When it rained? That was…” He cleared his throat. “…uh, enjoyable.”

Back on L.A. sets, Shiro stood half-naked for many scenes, sometimes for hours at a time during prep. He wore tight jeans he couldn’t breathe in, and he caught the eyes of fans, production assistants, and colleagues alike. And yet, after all these years, he only blushed for Keith.

“What are you doing back here, Shiro?” Keith asked, a whisper.

Shiro tapped his fingers against his stomach. “Thinking about doing Career Day at Marmora High. Mrs. Sanda calls me every year. Figured I should finally show up. And maybe I’ll build a new gym while I’m at it.”

“You know that wasn’t what I meant.”

Yeah, Shiro did.

“A set of pictures that aren’t even nudes show up on Instagram, and you come running back to Marmora?” Keith's voice rose with frustration. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“Just because my ass isn’t in them, doesn’t mean it wasn’t an invasion of privacy, Keith.”

“It was a shot of your back, Takashi. You were in jeans. I saw more of you in _Return to Beta Traz.”_

“It’s not what you think.”

“You were kissing Sendak. So what?” Keith sounded dismissive, uncaring. “Ten years ago, he was the defacto hero of every action movie and every teenage dream. So you and he – “

“He was my mentor, Keith.”

Keith shifted to see him, but Shiro refused to meet his gaze, instead directing his eyes toward the cloudless sky as he explained, “On the set of my first movie, _The Black Paladin._ Sen played the villain, and I was having such a hard time nailing the romance scenes. I was a kid out of rural America. My last production had been our drama club play. What the hell did I know about pretending to be in love? You were the only person I ever loved. I didn’t have to pretend.”

Keith kept silent, which Shiro took as a mercy.

“But Sendak was a pro. Classical trained. Tish School of the Arts. He noticed I was struggling, took me aside, showed me a few tricks to get me through the scene.”

“And that was the picture shown?” Keith asked, voice soft.

Shiro nodded. “I didn’t know he was taking pictures. The second one released? It was taken in his living room. Matt and I went over to watch the Patriots’ game. Got beer on my jersey and took it off. I wasn’t just walking around his house half-naked.

“And I know it’s nothing compared to others,” Shiro added too quickly, desperation inching into his voice. “I’ve had friends whose phones got hacked, and they had much more explicit photos – ”

“I get it,” Keith interrupted, resting a hand upon Shiro’s forearm. “Sendak betrayed you.”

The truth hurt to hear, even if Shiro had already made the realization himself. “Fans are one thing, you know? Some can be aggressive, but overall, they’re pretty awesome. The occasional candid pic on TMZ? That’s part of my job, but Sen’s different. I guess…I just needed to be with people I know I can trust. Just for a while, if nothing else.”

A tiny voice in the back of Shiro’s mind reiterated what Lance said, and Shiro relented that perhaps he had come back for Keith, if not to get back together then at least to understand where they went wrong. But as they lay side-by-side in the foliage, he couldn’t deny his heart longed to connect with the one next to him again.

Keith cut through his thoughts, voice soft and tender. “So you and Sendak? You weren’t ever – ”

“No,” Shiro replied, firm. He needed Keith to know this. “We weren’t together, not like that.”

They lay in comfortable silence for a while, long enough for clouds to return to the sky. The leaves shifted again, and Keith’s gloves scraped Shiro’s palm. Fingers folded with his own.

“I’m sorry he hurt you, but it’s good to have you back.”

Shiro smiled, indulging in the silver glimmer of Keith’s eyes. “It’s good to be back.”

Eventually, Keith coaxed him up and toward the coffee shop.

Leaves peppered the lawn until Shiro finally finished raking four days later.

* * *

**Matt** [5:43]  
_video on tmz bad bro  
don’t look at alone_

There was no way Shiro was getting back to sleep.

Shiro pulled on his sweatpants, turned his phone to airplane mode, and headed out to the front porch. Just beyond the stairs, one hand on the railing, Keith bent his left leg in a quad stretch. He said nothing but jerked a shoulder toward the road. A challenge. Their old training route was six miles through the hills, across the park, through the town center, right to the Blend of Marmora’s doors. Keith always started quick and took an early lead, but Shiro would catch up when Keith’s stamina gave out.

Keith waited until Shiro stepped off the porch, and then he was off, down the walkway, onto the road, and on his way toward the golden and red-tinted hills of Marmora. Shiro followed, like always, and he wondered – not for the first time – if he would always be trying to catch Keith. Or maybe he’d just had the privilege to have Keith in his life for a brief time.

By the time he reached the edge of the park, Keith slowed enough for them to run side-by-side, and the familiar pound of the pavement brought him back to his high school days. But they weren’t the same people. They bore scars—both physical and emotional—while Shiro gained a cybernetic prosthetic and Keith grew his hair out into a short braid.

Yet Shiro stole a glance over at Keith, and somehow Shiro couldn’t shake the feeling that Keith knew whatever TMZ released, came to be with him, and now ran to help ease Shiro’s mind.

Keith must have felt his watchful eyes. He glanced over and with a cocky smile, took off down Main Street. Shiro smiled and darted after him. He didn’t know who passed the Blend of Marmora’s doors first, but when he folded his fingers behind his head to keep upright, Shiro decided he won by being able to watch Keith’s toned shoulders rise and fall with every breath.

Keith lifted the bottom helm of his shirt to wipe his face, revealing his toned abs, and Shiro lost his breath for the second time in however many minutes. Sun hadn’t touched Keith’s skin in quite some time, and his maroon briefs peaked over the edge of his shorts.

When Keith dropped his shirt, Shiro quickly looked away, but his cheeks still burned.

Keith smacked him in the shoulder. “Hey. Breakfast’s on me.”

Shiro dropped his arms. “I don’t need your pity, Keith.”

“It’s a latte and a raspberry scone. Unless you want blueberry? Hunk sometimes makes a pumpkin one this time of year, but they go pretty early. We should be able to get one now, though.”

Shiro somehow picked up his mouth. “Why are you doing this? You don’t have to.”

Keith’s mouth opened and then shut. He tried again, this time with a tiny cringe. “You always came for me. When Kolivan went away for a bit. When James was an ass in school. That time after Home EC when I set the range on fire and the school had to be evacuated.”

Shiro tried not to laugh; he failed. “You hid under my varsity jacket for a week.”

“You’ve always been there for me.” Keith’s voice held a tiny, breathless quality. “Why won’t you let me be there for you?”

Because Keith abandoned him once and Shiro couldn’t believe he wouldn’t do it again.

Because five years created a chasm Shiro wasn’t sure they could traverse, but as Keith opened the door and held it for Shiro with a shaky but hopeful grin, Shiro thought maybe there was a chance they could.

* * *

Shiro chose the harvest berry scone and drank his latte across from Keith, who told him about Kolivan and Antok’s prolonged trip. Keith’s uncles stopped in Boston, and the tight streets and small town feel of the North End caught Antok’s fancy. It seemed like the perfect place to open a third store.

“Looking to move to Boston?” Shiro asked, but Keith laughed.

“Kolivan wants me out of the house. Thinks I’m doing nothing with my life.”

Shiro blew across the steaming coffee cup. “I don’t know. I don’t think anyone in the world can make a cup of coffee like you.”

“Lance made that.”

“Then I think you’ll need to make me one to compare. You don’t want me thinking he’s the best barista this side of Boston.”

Keith rolled his eyes, but his lips made that soft, private smile he reserved for Shiro.

When only crumbs remained, Shiro headed home for a shower and a change of clothes. He descended the stairs to find Pidge set up on the couch, cross-legged on the middle cushion, typing away with her green cat headphones around her neck.

It was Saturday, which meant Ojiisan had no classes or office hours. Usually he’d be holed up in his office grading papers, but today he occupied the kitchen, surrounded by sesame oil, egg, pork, chicken, and wonton wrappers.

 _”You’re making gyoza?”_ Shiro asked in Japanese, pushing himself up on the counter next to the dishes and ingredients. _“I don’t remember the last time you – ”_

”We _are making gyoza,”_ Ojiisan corrected as he dropped the cabbage, garlic cloves, ginger, and cornstarch into Shiro’s lap. _”You make the filling. I’ll fill.”_

 _“You’ve bought a lot,”_ Shiro mused. Colleen would be late at the university today, and Matt was still in L.A. That left only the three of them. _“Having guests over this evening?”_

_“Yes."_

The curt tone ended Shiro’s questions, and he jumped off the counter to start chopping the onions and cabbage. When Ojiisan joined him at the kitchen table a few minutes later with wrappers and a bowl of water, he also carried a sunnier disposition.

“Pidge said you’ve been getting scripts from Matt. Anything interesting?”

“A few movies, some in New York. A TV pilot in Boston.” Shiro jerked a shoulder. “I got an offer to screentest for a movie in Japan. It’s going to film in Osaka. You’ve wanted to go for years. I could take it and you could come with me.”

“No,” Ojiisan dismissed. “I’m happy here, with Katie and Colleen and my job at the university.”

“Well, think about it,” Shiro said and started breaking apart the cloves. “I don’t have to give an answer right away, and it’ll only be for a few months. You could take a sabbatical.”

“Is that what you want, Takashi?” Ojiisan asked, earnest. “To go halfway around the world, away from your friends and family for months at a time?”

Shiro forced a smile he didn’t quite feel. “I’m only back in Marmora for a short time. I’m going back to California once everything dies down.”

“Hm.”

“No. _No._ I know those ‘hms.’ I’m leaving. Matt’s working hard on getting new projects lined up for me. I can’t _not_ go back.”

“Hm.”

“I have a house, a life out there. And Matt’s counting on me.”

“Hm.”

“Allura and Lotor, too. I can’t just leave all that to—what? Come back here and sit in the corner of the coffee shop for the rest of my life, waiting… _for I don’t even know what,”_ he murmured under his breath.

“Hm.”

“And Keith doesn’t want me there, remember? _He_ left _me._ So I don’t see why you think I’d want to stay here, waiting for someone who has made it perfectly clear that whatever we had in high school didn’t carry far after.”

Ojiisan pitched the tips of dough. “There are others here besides Keith, Takashi.”

Shiro winced and ducked his head. That was true, but in a break-up, people choose sides. Shiro never gave them a side to choose, instead giving Keith everything, including his heart. Perhaps he should have fought harder, but Keith never asked him to. And Shiro wasn’t sure Keith wanted him to.

He looked up at Ojiisan and then through the kitchen doorway to see Pidge’s head peeking over the couch’s spine. Colleen would be here for breakfast tomorrow, and he’d see Keith, Lance, and Hunk at the coffeeshop sometime today.

Maybe he’d call Matt and ask him to come back up for the weekend, so they could have a family dinner. Maybe he’d invite Allura and Lotor, too. They’d spoken about visiting his hometown, and he’d enjoyed meeting their families.

Ojiisan grabbed the plate and knife from Shiro’s suddenly shaky hands. “The leaves still need to be done. Do that. I’ll finish up here.”

Right. Shiro understood a dismissal when he heard one and stood. He was halfway out of the kitchen before he turned back. “Think about Osaka. Or maybe coming out to L.A. Pidge could set up shop there. Colleen could—”

“Leaves, Takashi. _Now.”_

Shiro sighed. “Yes, sir.”

“Just for the record,” Pidge said as he walked past the couch toward the front, “Matt would rather be based in New York.”

“L.A. has better weather, and Silicone Valley is near there. You could – ”

“ – what? Get on a first name basis with surfer bums, eat sourdough, and design special effects for major studios?”

“Does Lance qualify as a surfer bum or were you talking about other surfer bums?”

Shiro barely managed to duck the pillow Pidge flung his way.

Raking the leaves took most of the afternoon, but Shiro managed to get five huge piles on the street with a wind guard nailed down before the sun fell below the horizon. Pidge had packed up her work for the day when he entered the house and Ojiisan had all but finished the gyoza. After a quick shower, Shiro sat down on his bed in loose sweatpants and a T-shirt. Black meowed and twirled about his ankle, encouraging Shiro to lift him into his lap. As Shiro pet the top of Black’s head, the cat purred in delight.

Shiro’s phone sat abandoned in the middle of the bed. “Matt said not to look at it alone,” he muttered, reaching for the device. “You count as my plus one, don’t you, Black?”

Shiro had delayed long enough, even if his hands shook, even if he wasn’t ready to see what Sendak released. He didn’t know if he’d ever be ready, so he might as well tear off the band-aid.

His thumb lingered over the link in Matt’s text, but a loud slamming of the front door startled him.

“Shiro, get down here! I brought ropa viejo and every single streaming service imaginable!”

Shiro closed the app and shoved his phone in pocket. Before he could wonder what Lance was doing in his house, Shiro caught sight of Hunk getting comfortable in his grandfather’s lounger while Lance fell back onto the end cushion of the couch. Pidge seemed to have claimed the middle cushion from now until the end of eternity, leaving the spot on the opposite end open for the absent Matt. Keith tucked himself into the corner of the love seat, which he shared with Shiro on Saturday movie nights during their high school days.

If Shiro closed his eyes, he could imagine them all being a decade younger, and like then, food took over the coffee table and most of the TV stand. Ropa viejo, like Lance promised, lured him down the stairs along with an assortment of pastries from Keith’s shop, the gyoza Ojiisan finished earlier, pizza, cheesy bread, and numerous Chinese take-out containers.

“What’s all this for?” Shiro asked, sounding so grateful and relieved that he cringed. But Lance saved him with a smirk and a fortune cookie.

“It’s Saturday, man. Movie night, and we’ve already picked the back-to-back features.”

Oh, no. Lance hit open his app to _Escape from Beta Traz._

“You kids have everything you need?” Ojiisan called from behind the sofa as he dried his hands with a dishtowel.

Keith raised his coffee cup. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

Ojiisan nodded more to himself than the group before heading upstairs.

As soon as he stepped onto the second level, Lance cheered and hit on the movie. “All right! Let’s get the party started.”

Placing Black on the floor, Shiro looked for a place to sit—other than the spot next to Keith. But Keith lifted a second coffee cup, offering a smile along with it, and Shiro accepted the olive branch. Collapsing back into the love seat, he took a sip of the drink and almost spat it out.

“This is beer.”

“Well, yeah.” Keith flashed an abashed grin. “I felt weird bringing a six-pack in here.”

“We’re adults.”

“So?” Keith managed to look both innocent and guilty at the same time. “He’s still your grandfather, and his disapproval glares are just as bad as Kolivan’s.”

They were, and the group had all gotten scolded by Ojiisan at one time or another during their teenage years. Shiro woke up every so often in a cold sweat from that one time Hunk’s mother put him and Keith in the back of a squad car after they had trespassed on Gamara’s grounds. Lance had dared them to go skinny dipping in the rival school’s pool after hours, and of course he’d stolen their clothes once they jumped in. Ojiisan barely talked to him the week after, and Lance had put dye in the pool. That meant Keith and Shiro had to clean it out, pay for any damages, and walk around for weeks with blue-tinted fingernails.

As the movie began, Shiro ignored Keith’s body heat as best he could, but they weren’t kids anymore. Where they used to have space between their legs, now their thighs pressed together, and Shiro had to lean against the arm rest to not invade Keith’s space. Black didn’t care, and within the first few minutes of the movie, jumped into Keith’s lap. Shiro frowned at him, remembering when Keith’s lap had been reserved for him, and mouthed, _Traitor._

Black purred again and rubbed his head against Keith’s stomach, hitting his ticklish spot. The light-hearted laughter made something in Shiro ache. He covered it by scratching behind Black’s ear and smiling when he pressed into it.

“He likes you,” Shiro said when Keith followed his example. “Black usually keeps away from strangers.”

“Are you calling me strange?” Keith asked, and Shiro found himself smiling like he was sixteen again.

“Well…I wouldn’t call you normal,” he laughed. “So you guys still meet every Saturday for movie night?”

Hunk swallowed a forkful of rice and beans and shrugged. “Yeah. Totally. Right after your movies hit streaming.”

“But we see them before that,” Lance scolded as he loaded up his plate with a slice pizza, a scope of ropa viejo, and more than a few gyoza. “Whole town actually meets at that old theatre in Puig, just off 75. They have a special Thursday night showing.”

Shiro choked in mid-bite of a gyoza and hacked a few wet coughs before catching his breath. “The whole town?” he croaked.

“Yeah. We all love your movies, Shiro,” Pidge said before adding, “Love to make fun of them.”

It was fair criticism. While he and Matt jointly decided which projects to take, they certainly didn’t make the best choices sometimes. However, Shiro rarely regretted any project decisions.

Sure, _Escape from Beta Traz_ wouldn’t win any awards, but there was something special about watching it with his friends. By the way Lance and Pidge picked apart the cheesy phrases, Hunk and Pidge explained the fake science, and Keith took it all in with his usual quiet demeanor, Shiro guessed the others enjoyed watching them, too. So he relaxed back into the cushions, enjoyed the added commentary, and munched on the makeshift buffet.

He wasn’t sure when it happened, but he must have leaned against Keith’s shoulder because one moment, he was watching himself and the White Lioness – aka Allura – doing a sensual dance and the next, Keith’s fingers were carding through his hair. It took all of Shiro’s being not to moan since it felt _so_ good, especially when Keith’s nails scratched along his scalp and lingered around his neckline, just like Keith knew he liked. Shiro leaned into the touch, slipping farther down in the seat and throwing his legs over the arm, so his head rested against Keith’s leg. After a teasing tug on his bangs, Keith continued his ministrations with a soft laugh.

“You’re like a big cat, y’know.”

“Do you want me to purr?”

“I don’t know. Your real cat might get jealous.”

Perhaps but Black wandered off somewhere within the first part of the movie and found a nice perch near Hunk’s plate.

“Looks like you have another adoring fan,” Lance laughed as Hunk fed Black one of his tarts. “You could start a business making cat treats.”

“Hey! Don’t steal away my baker,” Keith scolded, fingers gripping Shiro’s hair until his scalp tingled. “Hunk’s the only reason most people come into the shop.”

“There’s also the coffee,” Hunk reminded him.

“Yeah, but almost all of them leave with your pastries. And we can’t have ‘coffee and’ without anything to go after the ‘and.’”

“Maybe you should think about changing the name to Hunk’s Blend of Marmora,” Pidge mumbled through a bite of a chocolate croissant. “Hey, Shiro! You have to have a bite of this.”

Shiro sat up just long enough to swallow – and promptly took another bite. “She’s not wrong.”

Keith smiled and took the half Shiro offered him. “It’s Kolivan’s shop, but I’ll let him know you’re looking for a partnership, Hunk. He definitely won’t want to lose your culinary talents.”

With the pastries came coffee and _Return to Beta Traz_. During the first few minutes, Pidge took a picture of the group and asked if she could post it on Instagram. Shiro shrugged and said as long as she didn’t tag him, he didn’t care. It wasn’t like his fans knew “Pidge Gunderson from Marmora” was his sister.

The movie was worse than Shiro remembered, but he always liked working with Alfor. Intense director, always on time, offered great notes for scenes Shiro struggled with. Lance took to mocking half of Shiro’s lines while Hunk took over Allura’s. 

Around the midway point, Shiro began to doze. He woke up as Ojiisan shut off the lights, and like Shiro remembered from his high school years, Pidge and Hunk shared the couch. Lance had passed out on the floor with a comforter and a throw pillow while Keith huddled next to Shiro, his feet in Shiro’s lap.

Once Ojiisan returned upstairs, Shiro eased out from under Keith and snatched his phone off the end table. He headed into the kitchen and sat cross-legged, his back against the cabinets. His thumb hovered over the phone’s home button. What had Sendak released this time? What did his old mentor even have to release?

Shiro wasn’t sure he could hit the play button until a hand gripped his knee. He jerked, then relaxed when Keith settled next to him. Pidge stepped over his legs to press against his opposite side, while Lance and Hunk sat in front of Shiro. Black meowed and purred slowly, rubbing against Shiro’s legs.

Taking a shaky breath, Shiro looked to Keith once more, whose indigo eyes practically glowed in the dark light of the night, and took strength from that kind, encouraging gaze.

He hit the button and followed the link to TMZ. When the TV spot played, his stomach bottomed out, especially when the reporter lifted up a picture of Shiro’s first Golden Globe appearance. Sharp tuxedo, slicked back hair, warm smile, and eyes focused on one thing - his date.

Keith.

“You guys remember Shiro’s boyfriend, right? The one who came from whatever Podunk town they grew up in. Keith, Elusive Mr. No Last Name.”

“Same way Shiro is just ‘Shiro,’” one of the other reporters chimed in. “Cher but for men.”

“Right. Anyway, we never knew why they broke up, and Shiro’s PR-agent-dude-person Matt Holt refused to even comment. Well, we got video of Hollywood’s Heartthrob groveling.”

An invisible hand closed about his throat as the footage, undoubtedly from a phone camera, played. Wearing a tight space suit from one of his first movies, Shiro stood to the side of the faux cockpit, cell phone pressed to his ear. The voice was low, a hissed whisper, and it was obviously the TMZ crew had done something to boost its audibility.

Shiro’s voice shook as did the phone in his hand. “Keith, are you all right? Why won’t you answer? Or text. Are you coming out? Matt said you weren’t at the airport this morning. Did you get a different flight? What’s wrong?”

Someone called, and Shiro’s head whipped about. “Coming!” he yelled before returning to the phone. “Look, I’ll give you a call later, okay? At least text me to let me know you’re okay.”

The reporter returned, talking to the editorial staff. “And then it gets worse. The video literally ends with Shiro huddled in the corner, freaking out about how his boyfriend won’t call him back. Eventually, the PAs must have called Holt because he comes to deal with Shiro.”

The video rolled again, this time showing Matt speaking to a distraught Shiro. The dialogue was muted, but there was no mistaken the moment Matt explained Keith’s decision. Shiro’s face went slack before his eyes widened. His phone dropped to the floor, shattering on contact, and then Matt grabbed his arm. Shiro still slipped from his grip, falling backwards and out of sight of the camera for a few moments. When the video refocused, Shiro was sitting upon the floor across from Matt, speaking animatedly with tears streaming from his eyes.

The video cut when a director yelled that they were done for the day and would pick up on Tuesday. A heavy silence descended upon the suddenly cold kitchen, and Shiro stared at the phone, hand quivering. A private moment, a stolen moment, and though not one he would have liked captured and displayed for all the world to see, that moment paled in comparison to the argument that followed.

When Keith’s hand dropped onto Shiro’s, he flinched. It was involuntary, but Keith tore his hand back as if burned.

Pidge broke the awkward silence, a fierce edge in her voice. “You dumped my brother?”

Shiro clutched his phone in his hand. “Katie—”

“You made us all think Shiro dumped you, but you – you dumped him – and for—”

“I knew,” Lance interrupted before nodding toward Hunk, “and I told Hunk so—”

Keith’s voice sounded empty. “It was none of your business.”

“Bullshit.” Pidge shot to her feet to glare down at Keith. “I can’t believe you. All this time—”

“It’s late.” Shiro ran his fingers between Black’s ears and down the back of his neck before uncrossing his legs to stand. “Thanks for coming. I appreciate it, but I think it’s time for everyone to go.”

“Shiro – ” Keith.

“Good night.” Shiro stepped over Keith’s bent legs, marveling at how Black jumped into Keith’s lap. Grabbing the trashcan, he fled into the living room where he began to break down the pizza boxes, toss the Chinese food containers, and collect the beer coffee cups. His friends lingered by the kitchen entrance, and eventually, Hunk took a step forward. 

“Shiro, look, I know this is hard, but maybe—”

“I’m tired, Hunk.” Shiro tied the garbage bag and grabbed a dishtowel. “It’s been a long day and a long five years. For tonight, just let it go – ”

“But Shiro – ”

“Buddy, come on,” Lance muttered. “He’s not going to listen.”

Shiro was grateful when they shuffled out, and though he guessed Keith lingered, he, too, eventually left.

Pidge took the cardboard in the back while Shiro wiped down the tables, and by the time she returned, he’d already begun the ascent to his room.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded but low enough not to reach Ojiisan.

Shiro let out a deep sigh that seemed to come from his very bones. “Does it really matter, Pidge?”

“Of course it matters! All this time, I should have been—”

“—there for Keith, just like you have been. Keith might have been the one who ended our relationship, but we were both hurt, Pidge. I’m…glad you were there for him, just like Matt was there for me.”

He didn’t wait for her reply. He was beyond tired, and his bed called to him. He collapsed down onto it, pulled the covers over his head, and resolved to stay there long into the morning.

_To be continued..._


	4. Percolating

A new set of scripts arrived by mail carrier the following Wednesday, and Pidge signed for them. Shiro ripped open the package once he found it on the kitchen table and had his cell to his ear before dawn broke on the West Coast.

“You don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, do you?”

Matt’s good nature always soothed Shiro’s wounded nerves. “Come on, bro. You know I look out for you.”

Shiro sighed and collapsed onto his bed, the two scripts lying next to his head. “One feels a little thin.”

“One is the Osaka script I told you about. Historic. Poignant. Got a great director, and I told you the word ‘Oscar’ has been thrown around once or twice.”

Along with every other unmade movie. “And the other one?” He lifted up the script and squinted at the title. “‘The Hub of the Universe’?”

“It’s a working title. It’s already been shortened to ‘The Hub.’”

“Indie?”

Shiro heard Matt take a bracing breath. “Just…give it a read, okay? I’ve already been in contact with the producer, and he wants you for it. Word is – it was written with you in mind for one of the two leads.”

“And the other lead?”

“Don’t worry about it. For now, you read, talk to Ojiisan and Mom, and get back to me ASAP. The producers have been hounding me, what with the leaks and all.”

Right. Of course. Some studios didn’t mind a little drama. It added to the buzz of a project. Other studios, not so much. Shiro had always steered clear of the melodrama, but this recent leak was sure to put him on the cover of every tabloid.

“Bro, you okay?” Matt asked, tentative.

Shiro sucked in a deep breath and covered his eyes with the crux of his elbow. “Pidge found out that Keith dumped me, and she’s been avoiding me since. Pretty sure she hasn’t spoken to Keith, either.”

“She’s mad, y’know? You kept it from her.”

“Keith’s her best friend. If he didn’t tell her, then it really wasn’t my place to.”

“Give her time. She’ll cool down and go back to being her usual annoying self. Until then, enjoy this blissful time when she’s not…y’know, herself.”

“I’m telling her you said that.”

“So you don’t want to fly first class to Japan, huh?”

Oh, hitting him where it hurt. “I haven’t taken either job yet.” Before Matt could nag again, Shiro added, “But I’ll read these over and get back to you.”

A loud beeping sounded over the phone before Matt returned, “Within the next two weeks. I’ve got to let the producers know your interest on both, and we don’t know what’ll drop next on TMZ. Gotta move fast. You can’t stay holed up in your tower forever.”

A soft knock echoed from the room’s turret window, and Shiro jumped. From the roof, Keith sent a sheepish smile and waved, and suddenly, Shiro was seventeen again with Keith climbing the tree next to the his room to enter past curfew.

“Matt, I gotta call you back.”

He hit off the phone before Matt could reply and abandoned it on his bed. Though his heart thundered in his chest and his mouth dried, Shiro fumbled with the lock and lifted the window to let Keith inside.

“Thanks,” Keith greeted with a lopsided smile. “Pidge wouldn’t let me in downstairs.”

“She can be a bit stubborn.”

Keith snorted. “That’s an understatement.”

“She’s taken to being my protector, it seems.” Shiro pulled the window shut and sat while Keith lingered close with a bent knee on the cushion. “The fact that you’re breathing, says how much she cares about you.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t come to see her.” Keith’s eyes darkened, forlorn. “You haven’t come by the café since the weekend. Are you planning on leaving the house ever again?”

Shiro looked about his messy room—bed undone, clothes on the floor, scripts and magazines scattered about—and sighed. “Nah, I’m good. Ojiisan and Colleen feed me and Black, and I like taking naps in the sun. At this rate, I really might start to purr soon.”

Keith opened his mouth to speak, then shut it, fingers fidgeting with the edge of his cut-off gloves. Shiro fought not to take Keith’s hands in his own. It wasn’t his right anymore, and Keith had been adamant about their break-up.

“Hey, um…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, about TMZ. They shouldn’t have dragged you—”

“I didn’t know you reacted like that.”

Shiro blinked, completely stunned. “Huh?”

Keith’s eyes betrayed his calm. They were vibrant and shimmering. “I didn’t know you collapsed after—after what Matt told you.”

“Oh.” His ears burned, and he avoided Keith’s gaze. “Well…yeah. We were together since you came to live with Kolivan and your uncles. Even when we weren’t _together,_ we still were. I just – I didn’t even know that I could live without you, and you had already decided to live without me.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Keith argued. “You know it wasn’t.”

“It was. You broke up with me. On the day of the Oscars. Over text.”

“Because that was the biggest day of your life.” Keith gripped the edge of the window seat. “I didn’t want the pictures to commentate our last –"

“It doesn’t matter why,” Shiro interrupted, soft but gutted. “You made your choice, and I lost my boyfriend and my best friend in the same moment.”

Keith fell silent, and though the silence weighed upon Shiro’s shoulders, it wasn’t awkward or intense. It simply let them grieve their time together. Shiro debated about asking Keith if he wanted to leave by the window or stairs when Keith admitted, “And yet you still came back. You flew back here instead of going to accept your Oscar.”

“I lost.”

“But you didn’t know you would.”

No, he didn’t. Instead of heading to the Dolby Theatre, Shiro boarded the next plane to Logan International, sat in the second to last row of coach, and ordered three diet cokes and two bags of pretzels. He walked into the Blend of Marmora still in space suit pants with a T-shirt and jacket, ready to plead with Keith to take him back. The conversation ended with Shiro ordering an uber and leaving with only Keith knowing he’d ever come.

Shiro stood and headed over to his bed and the scripts. “You should go. I’ll come down to the shop later, okay?”

“I was holding you back.”

Shiro whirled, mouth dropping at the dejected response. Keith sounded shaky, breathless, shoulders curling inward toward his chest, hands clasped between his knees. He refused to meet Shiro’s eyes, instead focusing on some fascinating point on the floor.

“Matt told me you’d turned down some great offers because they didn’t fit into your schedule. You just had to fly back here every other week, sit at the café’s counter, help me put up chairs, and do my homework.”

He liked doing that. After the hustle and bustle of L.A., the fake attitudes and faker hair, the faux glitz and glamor, returning to Keith was like coming home. And simply watching him work about the café—it was the best show he ever watched.

He told Keith as such, adding, “Those were some of the best times of my life.”

Keith squirmed, head dipping even lower. “You could have been Captain America.”

“Well, yeah, but being with you meant –”

“You turned it down because of me.” Keith raised his eyes then, scorching Shiro from under his dark bangs. “And you didn’t discuss it with me.”

Sighing loudly, Shiro collapsed back onto the window seat. “It didn’t matter. The accelerated shooting schedule was going to take me away from Marmora for too long. It was a nine-picture deal with filming around the world. We’re talking about a decade of my life – of _our_ lives. That wasn’t fair to you.”

“But you didn’t even talk to me about it. You just made the decision.”

“I didn’t think it mattered, not if—”

“Did you not want me with you?”

Shiro blinked, taken off guard. “W-What?”

“You never asked me to move with you, to L.A. or anywhere. You never asked me about the house you brought or the cars or anything. I get that it’s your money, but you never even asked me what I thought. About _anything._ ” Keith squeezed his hands tighter, as if to make himself smaller. “You just brought all that stuff and then would let me share your bed when I came out. Like I was an after-thought or your-your booty call, rather than your boyfriend.”

Shiro forced himself to close his mouth. He then braced his arms against the seat to stop himself from lunging forward to seize Keith’s shoulders. “I guess – I never saw L.A. as permanent, you know? One guy sees my high school drama play, and then the next thing I know, Matt and I are in L.A. I’m getting gigs, and I’m on the big screen. It just…seemed like a dream that I’d one day wake up from. Especially with – y’know.”

Reflex had him grasping his metal wrist with his human hand and ducking his head to hide the scar across his face. “I didn’t think anyone would ever put me in a movie, let alone…”

“– label you People Magazine’s Sexist Man Alive?” Keith offered with a smirk. “ _Twice._ ”

Shiro let out a strained laugh. “Basically.”

Keith smiled and edged closer to hit his shoulder against Shiro’s. “I slept with the sexist man alive, y’know. Taught him a few things in bed.”

Shiro snorted. “You mean, behind the bleachers or in the locker room. Sometimes in the back of the café when Kolivan made you clean up. I think we rarely did it in a bed.”

“There were a few times in L.A.”

“And a few more times in the pool.”

“That, too.”

They fell into silence again, this time a bit more expectant, and Shiro ventured, “I didn’t want to leave for so long.”

“But you did – for five _years._ ”

“For you,” Shiro admitted with a helpless shrug. “People take sides. Don’t give me that look. They always do, and Pidge already isn’t letting you in downstairs. I know you left Matt alone. I just thought…it was better this way.”

Keith’s eyes brightened, shaking. “You gave me Marmora?”

“You deserved it. You never had a hometown before. I didn’t want to take that from you, too.”

Keith breathed Shiro’s name so low, Shiro couldn’t hear it. If not for Keith’s lips forming the word, he would have missed it altogether.

Shiro could still remember the first time he met Keith. All of thirteen, taking orders at the Blend and snapping at customers for taking too long to choose. His apron dusted his worn shoes, and his attitude ran longer. He barely offered Shiro more than an eyeroll when he stammered through his order, but the way Keith wrote his name on the cup – a large S and O – Shiro pretended it meant “significant other.”

As Keith assimilated to Marmora, he began to draw pictures on the side of Shiro’s cup, sometimes elaborate ones, other times just happy faces inside the “o.” The one time he wrote “Takashi,” Shiro thought his face would burn off from the blush.

But unlike Shiro, who was born in the general hospital at the county seat, Keith moved around most of his life for his mother’s job. When his father died, he came to live with his uncles in Marmora, and Shiro couldn’t bring himself to take Keith’s hometown from him.

Keith stood, and Shiro couldn’t help but watch. Keith’s jacket cut at his lower back, showcasing his pert ass. The band of his red briefs peeked just over his tight jeans, and Shiro wondered if Keith still liked wearing pants that tight or if he wore them for Shiro.

Shiro’s mouth dried when Keith bent over his bed and snatched the two scripts. “Deciding which one to pick?”

Shiro shrugged and brought a leg up underneath him. “I haven’t read either yet. One shoots in Japan later this year, the other in Boston. Matt said he thought I’d like the closer one.”

“Boston means you could make weekend trips up here,” Keith said as he flipped through the script.

“Yeah, but I offered Ojiisan a chance to see Japan again. And…I don’t know. I figured I’d come back more, but…” He wet his lips, debating his next words carefully, and then plowed forward like he was sixteen again. “…would you be okay with that?”

Keith looked up, blinked once, and then lunged. Shiro barely registered Keith’s familiar weight in his lap before warm lips pressed against his own. He gasped, shocked and delighted, especially when Keith used the opportunity to dive into a longer embrace.

Five years passed, and it felt like an eternity to Shiro. Yet – this, right here, felt right. No matter how many people Shiro kissed on screen, no matter how many people tried to get into his bed, no matter how hard he tried to move on – Keith was it for him. It would always be Keith.

Keith pulled away just far enough to whisper, “What do you think?”

When Shiro pressed Keith into the bed, Keith wrapped his arms around Shiro’s neck and drew him close. Shiro took his time, bearing him and Keith little by little. Tender kisses slowly grew more heated, gentle touches teased Keith in the way Shiro remembered Keith liked. As his lips followed a familiar path down Keith’s neck, his hand dug around in the side draw. His fingers brushed across the soft top of a small box, and Shiro raised his head far enough to see the contents.

“Find something you left behind?”

A velvet jewelry box.

Shiro’s heart thundered in his chest; his blood pounded in his ears. He never forgot about the rings he brought seven years ago in a jewelry store in Puig, but seeing them again after all this time sent his stomach swirling.

“You…could say that.”

When Shiro returned to Keith and saw his long hair tasseled and eyes shimmering in the shadows of the room, he found himself utterly breathless. Then Keith cupped his cheeks and drew him down for another kiss, and Shiro surrendered willingly.

The smell of Keith’s skin was familiar—of sugar and espresso, with a hint of vanilla. It surrounded Shiro and brought him back to the last time he held Keith, _loved_ Keith, and back then, he thought he couldn’t love Keith more. He was wrong.

Shiro collapsed forward, lying atop of Keith, head resting just above Keith’s shoulder. Keith’s legs tangled with his after they unfurled from his waist, and his fingers played with the soft strands on Shiro’s nape. It felt nice, relaxing. Right then, Shiro fell all over again, arms circling to hold Keith close as Keith caught him with lazy kisses.

“Missed this. Missed you,” Shiro muttered, face buried in Keith’s neck. He pressed his lips to Keith’s skin to feel his lover’s heartbeat throb underneath.

Keith’s hands clasped his cheeks and pulled his head up, so he could capture Shiro’s gaze.

“Welcome home, Shiro,” he whispered, and Shiro thought he’d finally made it.

“Took you two long enough,” a voice called from the doorway, and Shiro immediately snatched the comforter, pulling it across him and Keith as best he could.

“Pidge!”

“What?” She leaned against the doorway, arms and ankles crossed. “It’s not my fault you can’t shut a door. You’re welcome, by the way. I asked Ojiisan to get us some lunch.”

Shiro frantically waved his hand. “Get out of here, Pidge!” If only he had something to throw at her, like a shoe or a cat.

“Pidge,” Keith said with a tangible edge, “there are cameras in the back room of the café. And they record everything. Kolivan gets home next Thursday. Do you really want me to—”

The door slammed shut, and Shiro let out a sigh. Then laughter bubbled in his chest, and he didn’t try to suppress it. “There are cameras in the back room, huh? Good to know.”

“Sure, but I know where the shut-off switch is.”

Shiro descended upon Keith again, hands lowering from his back, down to his bare ass. “Also good to know.”

“Yeah, it really is.”

And they kissed again.

* * *

“Will you stop that?” Keith refused to meet Shiro’s gaze as he steamed the milk and clinked two shot glasses under the espresso machine. “I’m working.”

From a high stool at the café’s counter, Shiro planted his chin on his fist and didn’t try to suppress his wide grin. “What? I’m not doing anything.”

Keith dropped the espresso shots into the cup and snapped on a lid. “You’re watching me. I can feel it.”

“So?”

“Don’t you have scripts to read?”

“Watching you is so much more entertaining.”

Keith’s cheeks darkened considerably as he muttered out Regris’ order and moved onto the next drink. When he ran out of milk, he crunched the plastic bottle between his hands and retreated to the fridge behind the bar. When he bent over, he yelled without looking, “Stop staring at my ass.”

Shiro beamed. “Not a chance.”

A loud, obnoxious groan sounded from the front of the shop as Lance threw his head back and covered his eyes. Hunk came out of the back room then, carrying a fresh tray of tarts.

“Shiro and Keith flirting again?”

Lance waved a hand their way. “It’s high school all over again. Googly eyes, private smiles, inappropriate comments that assault my innocent ears.”

“Your ears have never been innocent.” Keith rolled his eyes and pulled the tag off the milk jug. “And what are you going to do? Tell HR?”

“I’m telling Kolivan.”

“Why do I always come back the moment Lance says that?”

Shiro whirled toward the door and saw the taller, built shop owner entering the café. He hadn’t changed all that much since the last time Shiro saw him. Sculpted muscles under a pure black T-shirt, long white braid traveling down his back, intense gaze, gruff voice. No nonsense, yet Shiro knew for a fact Kolivan had a soft spot for his one and only nephew.

Kolivan’s eyes traveled over the group – first to the cringing Lance, then the sheepishly-grinning Hunk and the bristling Keith before finally landing upon the wide-eyed Shiro.

He grunted, “I see you’ve returned to Marmora, Takashi.”

Shiro stood on instinct, back going straight like when Kolivan coached his high school football team. “Uh, yes, sir.”

One glance between Keith and Shiro had Kolivan sighing. “And I see you are back together with my nephew.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hm.” He let out a long-suffering sigh, held a long look of commiseration with Hunk, and muttered as he passed, “Do not take up one of my larger tables again.”

Keith waited until Kolivan passed and disappeared into the back room to let out a tiny sigh. Shiro reclaimed his seat at the counter and finished his latte, eyes unable to follow the words on the page in front of him. They kept straying to Keith’s hips, how those jeans hugged them, and when Keith reached for a new cup, the helm of his shirt lifted, revealing the pale skin underneath.

“Takashi.”

Shiro blinked and grimaced when he noticed Kolivan standing before him. When had he gotten there?

“This is a family establishment. If you can’t stop ogling my nephew, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Shiro cleared his throat. “Right. Uh, gotcha.”

Kolivan continued to glower for a few long moments, then picked up Shiro’s empty cup and brought it to the sink.

Shiro inhaled sharply as Keith finished up his last drink and came to wipe down the counter. “Sorry. Kolivan and Antok just got back from Boston, and you know how Kolivan – ”

“I should get going anyway.”

Keith’s eyes darkened, and his shoulders slumped. “Right, yeah. You probably have to get reading –”

Shiro wanted to lean over the counter and kiss the frown from Keith’s lips. “What are you doing tonight?”

Keith blinked. “Tonight? It’s Thursday night.”

“It’s not like you have school tomorrow. I was thinking maybe we could grab some dinner at that new fusion place in Puig. Then we can go back to my place and pretend Pidge doesn’t hate you.” The second wind of their relationship could be summed up in three words—Netflix and chill—and Shiro wanted to change that, take Keith out like he used to, talk about everything and nothing, and maybe enjoy some quick work, too.

Keith fidgeted with the edge of his fraying towel. “I have plans.”

Oh, right. They’d just gotten back together officially a few days ago. Surely Keith had a life before Shiro came back into it.

“But you could come with me,” Keith offered, looking up from underneath his long bangs. “And we could grab some dinner after?”

“Yeah.” Shiro reached out to take Keith’s hand and squeeze. “I’d like that.”

“Then it’s a date.”

Shiro enjoyed the smile that refused to hide behind Keith’s usual reserved manner. “Yeah, yeah it is.”

Lance started making gagging motions behind Keith, and when Keith spin on his heels, he promptly stopped and flashed his warmest smile.

Shiro left Keith to his shift and went home to shower and change. He forwent the tie in favor of a tight-fitting Henley and an equally formfitting pair of jeans. Some gel and mousse, his worn leather jacket, and Shiro came down the stairs to find Lance standing in his living room.

“Hey. Here for Pidge?”

Lance flashed a tired but relaxed smile. “Actually, I’m here to pick up Ojiisan. We have plans.”

“Yeah? Doing what?”

Lance winked. “Probably the same thing you’re doing.”

“I hope not,” Shiro laughed.

Lance joined him, then dragged his gaze up from Shiro’s boots to his jeans and jacket. His smile turned kind, good-natured. “Hey, y’know. You look good. Really good, man. Better than you have in a while.”

Shiro headed toward the door. “Thanks… _I think._ ”

“It’s a good thing. Promise. Now go get Keith before you’re late to this shindig.”

Shiro mulled over Lance’s words – “shindig?” – on the short drive across town. Kolivan and Antok lived on the opposite edge of Marmora, near the regional high school and on the way to the university. Their cape cod sat on a good acre of land, surrounded by multi-colored oak trees, Antok’s rather large garden, and a rusted soccer net from Keith’s years of playing. Shiro noticed a few patches of dead grass along the parameter but guessed Antok wanted to keep the weeds from attacking his tomato plants.

Kolivan built the house after he received an honorable discharge from the service. It was rather big with lavender siding and white shutters and a welcoming front porch where Shiro and Keith used to do their homework. Keith’s window was in the back, a good two stories above the ground and completely inaccessible to Shiro from the outside. Of course, it didn’t stop him from flinging rocks up there in middle school and after they both got smart phones, texing Keith to come down.

He did most nights. Other nights, Kolivan or Antok opened the back door, reminded Shiro that it was past curfew, and that he was welcome to stay the night, on the couch, with one of them in the opposite chair. Shiro usually opted to go home.

On one occasion, Ulaz and Thace welcomed Shiro inside while Kolivan and Antok were away and allowed him up to see Keith. Though Ulaz demanded the bedroom door be kept open, Shiro had shared a bed with Keith for the first time.

He’d kept his jeans, shirt, and socks on, but it’d been worth it just to wake up to see Keith’s tired smile in the morning.

When the front door to the cape cod opened, the memories were swiped from his mind, and Shiro’s jaw dropped, agape. Keith stood before him in a tight red shirt and a jacket Shiro recognized as his own. Keith had pulled hair back in a loose braid, and his smile was a delicate thing that begged to be encouraged.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” Shiro stepped up onto the porch, taking Keith by the jean loops and stepping within his personal space. Keith rewarded him by wrapping his arms about Shiro’s neck and pulling him closer. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’m right here.”

“And you don’t know how glad I am.”

So close, Shiro could smell Keith’s skin, the familiar scent of coffee beans, vanilla and sweetener. He could see the way Keith’s eyes shifted from indigo to purple in the porch light, and if given the chance, he thought he could stare into those eyes forever.

He waited for Keith’s eyes to stray to his scar, the way every one of his on-screen love interests did. He waited for Keith to shun away and abandon their quiet intimacy. But Keith never did. Instead, his eyes remained locked with Shiro’s, warm and bright and inviting, and he pushed on his toes to press his forehead against Shiro’s.

“You agreed to come out with me tonight without knowing where we’re going.”

Shiro cupped the side of Keith’s face, thumb swiping across his scar. “I’ll follow you anywhere.”

Keith’s chin tilted up, on obvious invitation. “Yeah? Remember you said that.”

“Why?” Shiro lowered his head to whisper against Keith’s lips. “What are you keeping from me, babe?”

The moment dragged on longer than Shiro would have liked, hesitation in Keith’s suddenly uncertain gaze, and Shiro’s mind wracked for what he could be missing. What had Keith gone through in the last five years that Shiro didn’t know?

When Keith finally opened his mouth to reply, Shiro cut him off with a brief embrace. “Hey, no need to tell me now. If you want to, great. If not, I don’t need to know. All right?”

Keith blinked, eyes shimmering like silver. “Yeah? You don’t mind?”

“We weren’t together, Keith,” Shiro whispered, though his heart throbbed painfully as he spoke. “I’m here if you want to tell me, but if you want to keep this to yourself, I understand.”

Relief softened Keith’s gaze, so Shiro had to tease him, just a bit.

“Unless it’s Throk.”

“Throk?” Keith echoed. “You mean the guy we went to high school with? The goalie for the soccer team? That Throk?”

“He wanted you. He used to give you gifts.”

“It was a pen. In chemistry class.”

“Still wasn’t yours and you didn’t have to pay for it.”

Shiro cherished in Keith’s delight, listening to his airy laughter and feeling his abs contracting. Shiro’s hands skimmed over Keith’s sides and down his back in smoothing circles, and though it had been five years, his own mind fought his heart. Would Keith run if Shiro told him now? Would he reject Shiro’s feelings, so close after getting back together? Did he even want to hear them?

Eventually, Shiro’s heart won the battle. “Keith, I know we just got back together, but I need you to know. I never stopped –”

A loud crash, heavy pants, and Keith tore away as a large beast lunged through the open front door.

“Cosmo, no!” he yelled, but Shiro held his ground, only flinching once when the large beast reined back on his hindquarters and flatted its paws on Shiro’s shoulders. His yellow eyes glowed against the dark mane, though patches of lighter fur drew a V across his chest and outlined his facial features. Its cold snout pressed again Shiro’s face, followed by two wet sniffs and a warm swipe across Shiro’s jaw.

“Is this a dog or a wolf?” Shiro muttered as the beast – Cosmo – huffed in his face.

“Not entirely sure. The vet thought he was a mix but didn’t know of what.” Keith patted Cosmo’s back and coaxed him off Shiro’s shoulders. “Come on, boy. Don’t ruin my first date in five years.”

First date in five years? Did that mean Keith waited for him, too?

Keith ushered Cosmo back into the house and then slammed shut the door behind him. When he turned back to Shiro, Shiro gave into his impulse and swept Keith into his arms again, pulling him close for a breathless kiss.

The sensation grounded Shiro, even after so many years apart. His hands slipped to Keith’s shoulder and his waist while Keith grew him closer, one hand tangled in the back of his longer strands. Instinct and emotion blended into lust, and Shiro pressed harder into the embrace, backing Keith up until he was flat against the front door.

Cosmo barked; no one answered him.

Against his better judgement, Shiro pulled away from Keith’s lips to whisper, “Aren’t your uncles home?”

Keith cocked an amused grin as he folded his fingers with Shiro’s metal ones. “Afraid they might want to grill you?”

“Well…yeah, but if they’re not home, maybe we should forget dinner and take this up—”

“No,” Keith said, though Shiro didn’t miss the disappointment in his voice. “They’ll notice when we don’t show up at the theatre.”

Shiro blinked. “Theatre?”

Less than twenty minutes later, Shiro pulled his Charger into the parking lot of the Puig theatre, an old-time cinema that only took cash and still dimmed the lights five minutes before the feature started. Lance’s old pick-up truck occupied one of the first parking spaces, and Ojiisan, Hunk, Shay, and Pidge waited by the flatbed’s opening. Antok and Kolivan crossed the dirt area toward the entrance, along with almost the entire town of Marmora.

His leather chair scrunched as Shiro pulled the Charger into the one of the last parking spaces and sat back, stunned and bewildered. Matt canceled Shiro’s pre-release interviews, and in the month since he’d returned to Marmora, he’d completely forgotten about the release of his latest film, _Champion._

“You weren’t kidding when you said the entire town comes to watch my premieres.”

Keith shifted in his chair to smile at Shiro. “Can you blame them? You cleaned out their gutters and raked their leaves and shoveled their driveways. They want to support you now.”

“But this?” Shiro gestured out the window to the long line of moviegoers. “It’s unnecessary. I didn’t do all that just for them to watch me take off my shirt and fight in a sandpit.”

“No, that part is for me,” Keith laughed and got out.

As they approached the theatre, Keith snatched his metal hand and folded their fingers together. Warmth spread through Shiro’s chest, and he didn’t fight the urge to steal one last kiss from Keith’s lips.

When they joined the group, Ojiisan spoke first, commenting that he hoped this movie would be better than Shiro’s last. Shiro made no such promises. Fresh from work, Colleen joined them by the time they were halfway to the theatre entrance and wore a T-shirt underneath her suit jacket that looked like Shiro’s uniform from _The Black Paladin._

She greeted each with a kiss and a promise to buy snacks. When Shiro opened his mouth, she silenced him with a stare that could cut steel.

“I always buy the snacks, Takashi.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Keith squeezed his hand. “Are we going to share?”

“Aw, young love,” Ms. Dalterion muttered from behind them. “You make this old heart palpitate.”

“Do you just say _young_ love?” Mr. Rygnirath scoffed. “They’ve been together – how many years has it been now, boys?”

Shiro looked at Keith, who stared back equally unsure. “I…I don’t know.”

“Are we re-starting or resetting the clock?” Keith asked.

Shiro debated that for a quick moment before shrugging. “It’s not like I forgot you like marmalade on your pancakes. Or sleep with one leg out of the covers.”

Keith’s beaming smile sent Shiro’s pulse racing. His heart absolutely fluttered when Keith informed the town gossips, “Almost five years.”

“When are you going to pop the question?” Mr. Nalquod asked no one in particular, though Mr. Rygnirath muttered, “Don’t pressure them, Blatyz. They’ll get around to it when they do.”

“Oh, like you don’t want to be invited to that wedding.”

“You better order enough cake,” Ms. Dalterion whispered, “and invite the entire town.”

The town gossips left them alone with a reminder that Career Day rapidly approached, and then they were in the theatre. True to her word, Colleen brought them all snacks, and when Shiro tried to select the healthiest option – fruit snacks – Keith ignored him and ordered cookie-dough bites and the largest popcorn. A few townspeople patted Shiro on the back and wished him well, while Pidge commented that it was a good thing Shiro didn’t mind seeing himself on screen.

He shrugged and grabbed a handful of popcorn. “It’s a little different when most of the town remembers you falling off the stage during your high school play.”

“Remembers?” Lance laughed. “I have it on video!”

As he opened his DropBox app and began to scroll through his videos, Shiro’s pocket vibrated. His stomach plummeted when he saw who rang – Sendak. Why would he be calling now, of all times? What could he possible want, especially after all the hurt he’d caused Shiro? He’d caused _Keith_?

“Hey, you okay?” Keith asked.

Shiro looked up and then ducked the Sour Patch Kid Pidge had thrown at Hunk. Shay retaliated by throwing an M&M at Lance, and Pidge became a shield for Lance as he threw his mini twizzlers. Colleen let out a deep sigh but didn’t scold them while Ojiisan caught one of each candy and headed into the theatre.

Shiro looked at his hand in Keith’s, still warm, still firm, and sent the call to voicemail. “Never better.”

“Good. Maybe we can get a seat in the back, y’know? Like we used to.”

Once the credits rolled, Shiro only saw a handful of minutes.

* * *

“That movie could have used your particular skills,” Antok said as they exited the theatre. “It seemed to be lacking in everything but gratuitous shirtless scenes.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “I don’t think they need me fixing them a few drinks.”

“That is not what I—”

Kolivan huffed and crossed his arms as they came to Shiro’s Charger. “Are you still letting Holt make your project choices? You may wish to rethink that.”

The pointed glare tore right through Shiro, who straightened his back and raised his chin like he was addressing his coach. “Matt gives me the scripts to review, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“And you still chose this monstrosity to give your attention?”

Shiro rubbed the back his neck with his free hand and shrugged. “It seemed like a viable option for my talents.”

Keith made a noise in the back of his throat, out of shock or derision, Shiro couldn’t tell, but Kolivan raised a skeptical eyebrow. “And just what talents would those be?”

“Kolivan –”

“Surely, your talents exceed pretending to be breathless while wearing next to nothing and flinging a sword around.”

“Well, in all fairness, I was actually breathless during that scene.” He looked at Keith and jerked a shoulder. “The director had us running laps before scenes to make sure it was authentic.”

“Or as authentic as a gladiator can be in a recreated arena on a California movie set, dressed in nothing but a loincloth and sprayed with water to make your abs shine?”

Shiro felt like he should be embarrassed, but he was anything but. “It’s actually baby oil, but at least it wasn’t that cream they sometimes use for CGI purposes. Those were all my abs.”

Antok’s eyebrows shot up, and he shared an appreciative gaze with Kolivan. “That is quite impressive. What was your work-out regiment?”

Before Shiro could dive into the weight training – the sailboat, cross fit – Keith grabbed Shiro’s hand and tugged him toward the driver’s door. “He did a lot of crunches. See you at home.”

“Takashi,” Kolivan called, stopping Shiro from getting behind the wheel. “You had a full scholarship for astrophysics. You were brilliant, both on the field and off. No doubt, the sky would have been the limit for you. And this is what you decided to do with your talents?”

Shiro wanted to be mad, to curse Kolivan out, and tell him exactly what led him to California’s warm coast. But with Keith’s firm hand in his, grounding him, saving him all over again, he just felt wrung out and drained.

“The sky was the limit for me, Kolivan. I couldn’t reach any higher, so I had to start chasing another dream.”

Shiro dropped into the car and pulled out of the parking lot before Keith’s uncles moved. “I’m sorry about that,” he murmured once they were back on the dark country road. “I shouldn't have –”

“Kolivan was wrong,” Keith said with more than a little exasperation. “You don’t have to explain yourself to him.”

"Keith-"

"He shouldn't lecture about your life after the accident. You shouldn't have to justify whatever path you chose after you lost your _arm."_

“But he’s your uncle, Keith. I need to win back his trust.”

Keith snorted. “You never lost his trust. After we broke up, he kept asking me what I did to lose you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Shiro caught Keith staring out the window at the dark fields of Puig. “Why didn’t you tell them the truth? You left me, remember?”

“I did,” Keith said, adding slowly, “tell him the truth. But Kolivan still believed I did something to make you not come back.”

The dark countryside eventually gave way to long rows of evergreen and half-picked apple trees. They passed Trugg’s corn maze, recently cut for the Harvest Festival that always lured tourists and visitors during leaf-peeping season, and continued toward Marmora’s town limits.

“I would have come back,” Shiro muttered when they reached the main thoroughfare. “You just needed to ask.”

“That’s why I didn’t,” Keith replied equally as low.

The streetlights flooded the car’s interior as they passed, and Shiro sneaked a peek at Keith. His hair had fallen a bit, so the tips of his bangs curled about his cheeks. They framed his glistening eyes, which reminded Shiro of a thousand stars and their first time together. After the rain stopped, they left the bleachers behind, and Shiro brought Keith home. They showered, and in Shiro’s large sweatshirt and pants, Keith sat upon the window seat, framed by the moon’s soft glow.

Shiro always loved Keith. Even before he knew Keith, he’d somehow adored him from afar, but that night, seeing Keith illuminated by starlight and smiling at him with such a vulnerable but open expression, Shiro fell hard with no chance of recovering.

On instinct, he turned away from town, out toward the only fast food joint open past ten. A few burgers, fries – with mustard and barbecue sauce for Keith—and then Shiro drove up to the old football stadium. He killed the lights, and they sat on the hood, eating under the full moon’s light.

“A B.A. in English?” Shiro said incredulously. “ _You_ got a B.A. in _English?_ ”

“Creative Writing and English.” Keith stole one of Shiro’s onion rings to dunk in his sauce concoction. “I also took some drawing classes. They were offered on nights Colleen had her evening lectures.”

“What happened to astrophysics and wanting to fly in space?”

Keith shrugged. “Didn’t seem like a dream anymore, not without you as my co-pilot.”

Shiro’s metal hand gripped in a fist before he let it go. Matt and Pidge’s dad had made great strides in bioengineering before he died, but the use of such limbs hadn’t been approved for space flights. Shiro’s heart ached. He’d never realized that losing his arm and his dream, had also meant Keith losing his dream, too.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Keith growled, eyes flashing with heat. They landed upon Shiro’s scar and then his hand before he finally looked away. He absently reached up to cover his cheek and the scar upon it. “It was my fault you lost your dream,” he whispered. “I asked you to go for ice cream. I said I wanted to –”

“No,” Shiro declared. His stern voice allowed no room for argument. “The guy was an idiot for ever drinking that much and an asshole for getting behind the wheel. You had nothing to do with it.”

“But you – that night – ”

“I don’t even remember it.” Fractured memories were all he could recall. Unbelievable pain, splashes of red, Keith’s desperate voice, a few images of Keith hovering over him, bleeding and calling his name – he woke up in the hospital a few weeks later, having kept safe everything that mattered to him.

Shiro’s hand went up to cup Keith’s hand over his scar. “ _I’m_ sorry. He took more from you than I realized.”

Keith scrubbed the unshed tears from his eyes but didn’t pull away from Shiro’s touch. “You found another dream; I did, too.”

Shiro found it hard not to laugh. “So what do you plan to do with a B.A. in Creative Writing and English?”

Keith’s smile was challenging. Shiro dared to think smoldering. “I don’t know. Maybe one day, I’ll write something you’ll act in.”

“You ever write any scripts?” Shiro asked as he picked up his burger again.

Keith watched him closely. “…maybe.”

“Let me read a few…or not.” Keith’s grimace had him switching gears. “At least send a few scripts to Matt. Let him see what you have and decide what to do with. He’s got a good eye for these things.”

Keith pulled his pickle to the front of his burger and took a bite. “I’ll…I’ll think about it.”

“Good,” though Shiro could tell by the way he worked through his burger, Keith was only placating him. “Look, if you’re happy working for Kolivan and being a barista at the Blend of Marmora, good. I’m happy for you. I’ll help you put up chairs every night for the rest of our lives. But if you want to write for TV and movies, then you have the resources. Use them.”

Keith finished his burger in two quick bites and reclaimed his drink. His lips squeezed about the straw, an obscene gesture in Shiro’s opinion, and he slurped loudly. Shiro waited, eyebrows lifted, arms braced on the hood.

Keith didn’t disappoint. “Do I have to put out or what?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure you’re Matt’s type.”

Keith threw his crumbled-up wrapper at Shiro, who laughed and swung down to steal a brief kiss from Keith’s cool lips. “Hey.”

Keith snatched his collar, keeping him close. So close, Shiro saw the glimmer of Keith’s eyes. “Hey.”

“I have to head down to Boston next week. Screen tests for that show I told you about. You want to come with me? We’ll get a hotel and room service or go out. Whatever. We’ll make a weekend out of it.”

Keith shifted closer until his legs pressed against Shiro’s. “What? You want me to watch as you pretend to flirt with someone else?”

“It’s a buddy cop dramedy,” Shiro explained as he tugged on a wayward strand of Keith’s tail. His opposite hand slid up Keith’s back. “And just so you know – when Sendak gave me tips that day, on my first movie. Remember that Instagram post?”

“Hard to forget.” Keith’s voice was strained. From anger or arousal, Shiro couldn’t tell.

“He told me to think about the one I loved when acting out a romance scene. He said I should think how I would deliver the line to my lover, rather than the actor across from me. That way, the feeling would be genuine.” Shiro swallowed the rising bile in the back of his throat. “So, in a way, every love line I’ve ever said in a movie – I was saying them all to you.”

Keith launched himself into Shiro’s lap, hands clasping Shiro’s cheeks, lips stealing another searing kiss. Shiro’s arms accepted the intrusion freely, slipping about Keith’s waist and gripping his ass greedily. Keith pulled away, panting, and pressed his forehead against Shiro’s.

“You can’t say shit like that and expect me to keep my hands to myself.”

“I didn’t. I was hoping it would get you in my pants.”

“Ahem.”

Shiro tightened his hold on Keith, who went stiff in his arms. Together, they turned to look at the front of the car, where a cop waited, flashlight in his hands.

“Boys, this is school property. The kids play on these fields.”

Keith rolled his eyes and then dropped his head to Shiro’s chest. Shiro flashed a sheepish smile. “Sorry, Officer Ozar. We’ll be on our way.”

“And pick up your trash before you go. Littering carries a $200 fine, y’know. I’d hate to have to ticket you for that on top of the indecent exposure.”

Keith glared over his shoulder. “We’re fully clothed!”

Ozar cocked his head toward Keith’s ass. “And he has his hands right where I can see them.”

On said ass. Shiro immediately shifted them up to Keith’s waist.

“That’s more like it. Keep them there until you get somewhere more private, will you?” Huffing, Ozar headed back toward the school. “Why don’t they ever go out to the fields anymore? I never catch them in the fields. Have a better chance of finding aliens.”

Shiro watched him leave, then slowly slid his hands along the curve of Keith’s ass. “He said somewhere more private…?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “I’m not doing it behind the bleachers again. We’re not sixteen anymore.”

“I was thinking the car.”

Of course, Ozar put his car lights through the Charge’s back window and honked until Shiro drove off school property. Whether Keith was still in his lap was up for some debate.


	5. #Sheith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last time on "The Blend" - Shiro and Keith got back together, and Shiro learned Keith gave up his dream to fly for the Galaxy Garrison to get a degree in Creative Writing. Shiro invites Keith to join him in Boston for a screen test for his next gig. 
> 
> This chapter - Shiro and Keith's relationship hits social media.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, everyone! I had planned to get this up back in October, but I ended up switching jobs. My new one is a bit overwhelming, but I'm hoping to have some updates for you soon.

The familiar dark road lay ahead, though Ojiisan’s car headlights cut through the moon’s shadows. Keith devoured his cookie and cream ice cream in the passenger seat, humming thoughtfully in appreciation. He’d convinced Shiro to drive all the way to Puig for fresh serve, but the discussion had been short. Shiro loved spoiling Keith, and on a carefree summer night, ice cream with his boyfriend was the perfect date.

Shiro wanted eternity to be just like this.

A squeal of tires, lights flashing across the window shield, and a pick-up barreled toward Ojiisan’s Ford Focus.

Everything happened so fast. The shattering of glass, the screech of metal, pain – unimaginable pain. He couldn’t move his right arm. Even cringing hurt, but when Keith called to him—he sounded so far away—Shiro used all his remaining strength to turn his head.

Keith loomed over him, tears glistening in his eyes, ice cream smashed on his T-shirt, cheek weeping blood. When he spoke, only his mouth moved; Shiro couldn’t hear the words over the buzzing in his ears.

With a breathless gasp, he jerked awake, arms unconsciously gripping the waist in front of him. Tasseled black hair slid across his pillow, and then sharp but tired indigo eyes flashed toward him.

“Hm…Shiro?”

Shiro kissed Keith’s shoulder, then his neck, and finally the aged scar across his cheek. His arms loosened about Keith’s hips, though they didn’t pull away completely. Shiro had to keep holding on, needed to feel Keith’s heat against his fingertips.

“Just a nightmare, babe. Go back to sleep.”

Keith nodded but shifted closer, face tucked in the crux of Shiro’s neck. It took Shiro a long time to fall back asleep, his fingers content to draw absent circles across his lover’s smooth skin.

* * *

The drive down to Boston took just over two hours, but it seemed like less with Keith in the passenger seat. Shiro kept glancing over to see Keith petting Black, who lay across his lap or rubbed his head against Keith’s stomach. A few times, Shiro made a vie for Keith’s attention, taking Keith’s hand into his own and lacing their fingers together.

“Thanks for coming with me. You being here reminds me of high school, y’know? When you used to come to my away games and wear my jacket.”

A small, shy smile twisted the edge of Keith’s lips. “You were so possessive, like you didn’t know you were the hottest guy in the whole county.”

Shiro whistled. “The whole county, huh?”

“You had to know I wanted to be with you.” Both Keith’s hands folded about Shiro’s. “You’re it for me.”

Shiro squeezed Keith’s back and shrugged a shoulder as he muttered, “Throk.”

Keith scoffed, “Him again? Are you serious?”

“What? He was hot. He was always all over you, and you—”

“—elbowed him every single time. You know that.”

“Can you blame me for being a little jealous?”

 _“A little?_ Shiro, it’s been more than seven years since you both graduated high school. I don’t think Throk is a threat to you now – if he ever was.”

“Right. Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” Shiro leveled as he drove them over the Tobin Bridge and onto the crowded streets of Back Bay. “So even after you and I split, you and he never –”

Keith took in a sharp inhale before rolling his eyes for good measure. “Shiro, Throk and I aren’t even Facebook friends, all right? He stops in the shop every so often for coffee. Makes some small talk. Buys a scone. That’s it.”

Shiro’s eyes shot wide. “You still see him?”

Keith let out a loud growl. “You’re getting a hotel room. We’re spending the weekend in the city, _together,_ and you really want to keep talking about some person you _imagined_ was your rival almost a decade ago?”

“When we get to the hotel, you want to…yeah?” Shiro’s mouth went dry, and he let out a little cough.

Keith laughed. “That is why you invited me down, right? Or did you get two double beds in our room?”

“No, no. Totally got a king.”

“Besides.” Keith sat back in his seat and watched the commercial buildings fly by. “Speaking about high school, remember how I used to wear your jacket to your games and then that was all I’d wear after?”

Against the car, under the bleachers, one time in the locker room showers – the image of Keith straddling his lap while wearing nothing but his varsity jacket was permanently seared into Shiro’s mind. Thankfully.

Shiro beat his fingers on the steering wheel and muttered at pedestrians who flooded the sidewalk. With his screen test later in the day, they’d only have an hour, maybe less, before Shiro needed to leave. Every moment _now_ was a moment stolen from _then_ , and Shiro began to honk the horn to get people moving.

Keith laughed, a breathless, airy sound Shiro wanted to hear again. “You are impatient.”

“Only for you, babe. Only for you.”

As he pulled up to the red and gold canopy outside of the brick castle, Keith pressed his head against the window to see the entire structure. “Is this the place? This is seriously where the studio is putting you up?”

“Yeah. Nice perks, right?” Shiro popped the trunk but grabbed his and Keith’s bags himself. As the valet neared, Shiro handed him a hundred. “Sorry. Don’t have time to wait.”

Keith stepped out of the car with Black already in his soft carrier and with a smile, took Shiro’s hand. He followed Shiro into the elegant lobby with golden-etched mirrors, sky blue carpets, and golden, leaf-shaped chandeliers.

“They must _really_ like you,” Keith muttered as they got on line, but Shiro shrugged. “I didn’t ask for anything extraordinary. But I did get us a Studio. King bed, minibar, bathrobes.”

“Hm. For after, right?”

Shiro stepped up to the front desk and winked. “Absolutely.”

Following a few signatures, a fake name on record, and maybe an autograph or two, Shiro led Keith onto the elevator. The doors shut, granting them a moment of privacy, but before Shiro could act on his urges, Keith lunged. He slammed Shiro against the elevator wall, pushed up on his toes, and pulled Shiro down into a searing and breathless embrace. Keith bit his bottom lip; Shiro chased Keith’s tongue. The door opened and shut, and Shiro barely registered it. They rode the elevator three times before they finally got out.

Shiro laced their fingers together and led Keith down the hall and into the corner suite. He chucked their bags on the floor, placed Black’s carrier facing the wall, and barely allowed Keith inside the door before seizing his cheeks and diving into another exploratory kiss.

As Shiro ducked under Keith’s chin to knead his throat, Keith’s hands went for his belt. “Y-You know,” Keith started, thick and heady, “you weren’t this desperate in Marmora. You’d think it’s been five years or something.”

Shiro’s hands slipped under Keith’s shirt as he dusted kisses along his jaw. “It was back in Marmora.”

Keith’s hands stilled, one half down Shiro’s now open jeans. “…what?”

Shiro pulled back to see Keith’s wide, disbelieving eyes. “What?”

“You really…not once? At all?”

Shiro shrugged. “Is that so hard to believe? Sex has to mean something for me, and it meant everything with you.”

Keith’s hand slid all the way into his jeans, wrenching a low, throaty groan from Shiro’s core. Keith’s opposite hand hooked Shiro’s neck and pulled him down for a quick peck. “Me, too. Only you.”

Shiro’s shirt decorated the desk chair while Keith’s jacket fell rumpled against the bathroom door. When they collapsed onto the bed, Shiro caged Keith in his arms and stared into the glistening indigo. Alone like this, seeing Keith vulnerable and open only for him – and only him – Shiro fell all over again. Or perhaps he never actually stopped falling after he met Keith almost twelve years ago.

Shiro only managed to gather his bearings when Keith’s hands grabbed fistfuls of his ass and flashed him a daring grin. “Are you just going to stare, Shirogane, or are you actually going to do something?”

Shiro raised an eyebrow. “All talk. I don’t see you doing – K-Keith!”

Suddenly, Shiro found himself flat on his back, Keith straddling his hips as he pulled off his shirt. “You were saying?”

Shiro was saying nothing, shocked speechless by the way Keith’s stomach muscles flexed when he laughed.

As Keith ducked for another heated embrace and Shiro rose to greet him, a loud knock pounded on their door. “Ignore them,” Keith whispered against his lips. “They’ll go away.”

“No, they won’t,” Shiro sighed and fell back against the bed. “It’s probably a welcome gift from the studio. If I don’t answer the door, the bellhop will just come in.”

“Learn from experience?”

“Unfortunately.”

Keith huffed as another bang sounded, then slid off Shiro’s hips. Shiro echoed his exasperation as he found his wallet, a few twenties, and then his shirt. He made sure to look somewhat presentable, just in case the bellhop wanted a picture, and found himself with a face-full of soft white hair once he opened the door.

“I can’t decide to be relieved or hurt that you still have all your fingers. That means you had no reason to ignore me.”

Allura Alford. The first friend Shiro made in L.A. and the closest person to him other than Keith. She’d played his love interest in _The Black Paladin_ , a lion goddess resurrected after ten thousand years, and as they shared a set, they also shared their lives. Meals and gossip, tips and coping mechanisms. If not for Allura’s gracious demeanor with fans and teaching him how to live with his new-found fame, he would never have made it in the actor-eat-actor world of Hollywood.

Allura held him in a firm but comforting embrace, her fingers reaching up to card through the smaller strands on his nape. A gentle peck on the cheek warmed his heart, and then she gifted him with an earnest smile.

“You know better than to ignore me, Shiro. I almost had Lotor drive all the way up to Marmora earlier this week. He would have, too, if not for Matt scheduling an early photo shoot.”

Matt, working small miracles for Shiro since diapers.

Over Allura’s shoulder, Lotor sighed dramatically. “Of course, that didn’t stop her from worrying the entire time. I think the photographer asked her to look determined, not deadly.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Shiro put out an arm and drew Lotor close for a warm embrace.

“Not to me. We went back to our hotel room afterwards, needed to…” Lotor’s eyes zeroed in on the askew jacket, two sets of sneakers tossed haphazardly near the entryway, and then down to Shiro’s fly, which he quickly closed. “You have someone here.”

“Oh. Uh.” Shiro scratched the back of his neck and looked over his shoulder, relieved that the alcove of the L-shaped room hid Keith. “Um…yeah. Maybe you guys can come back – ”

“It’s okay, Shiro,” Keith called, coming to Shiro’s side. He looked more put together than Shiro with a tight braid and fully zipped pants, but he crossed his arms and wore a dark scowl.

“Uh, Keith, you remember Allura,” Shiro said, even as Allura reached out with both hands.

“Keith, it’s so good to see you again. I’ve missed you out in L.A.”

Keith flashed Shiro an uncertain look, then offered Allura a shaky smile. “Uh, thanks…?”

“You should have visited. I’ve missed our talks about Shiro’s mishaps on set. I have so many to tell you.”

Shiro looked from one to other and back again. “You two used to talk?”

Allura waved a hand. “Of course. I’d tell Keith about how you performed on set and he’d tell me stories from your years in high school. I sometimes sent pictures.”

Keith’s genuine smile warmed Shiro. “I still can’t believe you fell off Allura while filming the sex scene for _The Black Paladin.”_

Lotor smirked. “He saw me watching them and got flustered.”

Shiro rolled his eyes. “You wish. Keith, this is Lotor, Allura’s asshole.”

“Husband.”

“That’s what I said.”

“It’s good to finally meet you, Keith,” Lotor said, ignoring Shiro completely as he offered a hand. “Shiro told me all about you – after he picked himself off the floor. I don’t think he ever gathered his bearings, though.”

“Only because I was in a robe with gel all over my chest.”

Keith hit his side. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

“Keith, will you be coming to the screen test today?” Allura asked.

Shiro’s eyebrows pinched. “You’ll be there?”

“You don’t know?” Lotor looked surprised. “Matthew called us for the project specifically. I thought you had requested us.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Detective Ryou Hayashida,” Allura said before Shiro could ask. “I’m your partner, Detective Fala Altea, and this is Sincline Daibazaal, underground crime lord and my love interest.”

Lotor hooked an arm about her waist. “You just love bad boys.”

“Then why am I with you?” She pushed up and pecked Lotor’s lips. “We better get going if we want to arrive at the screen test on time.”

Shiro side-eyed Keith, who was already looking up at him. Keith tugged on the hem of his shirt and asked, “Does Shiro have to go right _now?_ Can we have maybe five-ten minutes?”

Shiro gaped. “That’s it?”

“Babe, it’s all right.” Keith patted him on the arm. “You’ll make it count. You always do.”

“An hour, okay? We need _at least_ an hour.”

“You have about six minutes,” Lotor told him as he led Allura out the door. “Then we’re leaving without you.”

“Promise?” Shiro laughed, to which Allura rolled her eyes and shut the door.

Shiro already had his lips on Keith’s neck again, even before the lock engaged. He muttered through the kisses, hands working Keith’s belt open. “Do you want to come?”

“Yes,” Keith insisted, a noise sounding suspiciously like a purr coming from his chest. “Absolutely. Hopefully within in the next six minutes.”

“Yes – no! That’s not what I meant.” Keith’s shirt ended up on the floor for a second time in as many minutes. Shiro’s lips had yet to leave his skin. “I meant to the screen test. Do you want to come?”

“Oh.” Keith’s fingers tugged on Shiro’s fringe. “I, uh, I think it’d be better if I stayed here. If you text me, I can even have a table ready downstairs.”

Shiro grabbed two fistfuls of Keith’s ass and threw him over his shoulder. “You sure?”

Once Keith lay underneath him, he offered a gentle, indulgent smile. “Yeah, but don’t worry. I’ll give you ample reason to return.”

Twenty-six minutes later, Lotor banged on the door, and Shiro exited the hotel room with his fly down, shirt bunched up around his torso, shoelaces undone. Lotor graciously ignored the bites around his collar until he could resituate his shirt to cover them.

* * *

The screen test ran just over two hours and took place in one of the hotel’s conference rooms. The executive producers and a few writers sat around a long table and discussed the project and its personnel. For such a dynamic show, the test’s setting was bland and non-conducive to acting, but Shiro was a professional. He’d make it work, especially with Allura and Lotor.

He found himself blushing as the producers explained the show’s inspiration.

“We have a young writers’ room but truly talented people. Our head of story grew up around here and loves your movies, Shiro. He wrote the part of Ryou Hayashida especially for you.”

And it showed. His close friendship with Allura and Lotor was no Hollywood secret, and the witty, fresh dialogue flowed between them. They ran scenes once, twice, clocking in a second or two apart, but more than a few times, they broken into fits of laughter. Even the producers and execs joined them, and the atmosphere remained light, excited. This series was going to be something special.

Maybe Emmy worthy, maybe not. But Shiro didn’t care. He enjoyed the thoughtful feedback from the director and executive producer, delivered a few lines differently, and even improvised one that worked well. A writer nodded and jotted it down, and thanked Shiro for his contribution.

“We’re changing the name to _Beantown,”_ the executive producer explained after the read-through. “A suggestion by one of our writers who used to be a barista. Double meaning since our two detectives love their joe.”

“And we’re thinking your character might fall in love with the recurring barista, Shiro. It’s still up in the air. Depends on how the audience loves the character Red.”

Shiro spent most of his downtime catching up with Allura and Lotor, the former who pestered him with her usual prying questions. He made sure to check his phone and type a few quick messages to Keith. Keith sent him an interesting mix of emojis and gifs, a few pictures of their hotel room, and one of his feet peeking up from underneath the bubbly froth of the tub. Black lay on the bathroom counter, watching Keith with thoughtful, sharp eyes.

Shiro typed back, _Hope there’s space in there for me._

Allura’s hand covered Shiro’s and squeezed gently. “You look happy, Shiro. Happier than most of the time I’ve known you.”

The answer flew from his lips quicker than he could catch it. “I am.”

Falling back into love with Keith was easy since he’d never fell out of love with him. In Hollywood, he’d made a few friends and hung around with Allura and Lotor, but their schedule rarely hooked up for anything more than the occasional text and call. On the off chance they managed to work on the same project, he spent more time crashing on their couch than in his own hotel suite.

This series would bring him back home to Marmora, and if Allura and Lotor nailed these parts, he’d be working with his closest celebrity friends.

It was his dream project and just seemed too good to be true.

An hour later, Matt texted.

 **Matt** [2:17]  
_new pic answers the question  
boxers or briefs_

* * *

“That’s it?” Shiro demanded, arms thrown wide, breath forming clouds in the chilly autumn air. “That’s all you’re going to say about it?”

Keith shoved his gloved hands into his jacket pockets and turned, one eyebrowed raised. “Do you want me to say something else?”

“Sendak just released a picture of me passed out on his bed, wearing nothing but briefs, with the bedding completely a mess, and your only response is, ‘I hope you got strong coffee that morning.’”

Keith shrugged. “Uh, yeah? You sleep in your briefs most nights. You also do move around in your sleep, and you said you didn’t have sex with Sendak. So…do you want me pissed or something? I could try to act like it, but you’re the actor here, not me.”

Shiro opened his mouth, unsure what to say, then closed it. Keith took pity on him, coming forward to take his hand and hold it in his own. He said nothing, though, waiting for Shiro’s brain to function again.

It eventually did. “I just thought – when you saw that, that you’d – I was afraid you’d think – ”

“What? You thought I’d play the jealous boyfriend? All right.” Keith hooked an arm about Shiro’s neck, dragged him down a few inches, and lifted his phone for a selfie. “Say ‘Beantown.’”

The picture came out better than Shiro thought it would with Keith’s forehead pressed against Shiro’s temple, his smile thoughtful but with a hint of mischievousness. Shiro was looking at Keith in the picture, though, smile open and adoring. He didn’t realize he looked that openly at Keith.

Keith typed for a few seconds before he lifted his screen for Shiro to see.

Shiro’s eyes widened. “You posted it on Instagram…and tagged me?”

“Yes. To show Sendak or whoever is doing this that you’re not afraid. I’m not afraid. Look, whatever they are trying to do, it’s not going to work. You’re stronger than them.”

“ _He sleeps in my bed – K._ ” Shiro snorted and slipped his hand into Keith’s back pocket. “Didn’t know you were so possessive.”

“Just figured I’d tell them like it is.” He tugged Shiro’s hand up and laced their fingers together, pulling them both into his jacket pocket for warmth. “You think it’s still Sendak?”

“…yeah? Who else would it be?”

“If you were so close to him, maybe you should reach out. Talk to him. Find out why he’s releasing these pictures.”

Shiro led Keith off the sidewalk and into a glass lobby of a tall, sleek apartment building. “Maybe when we get back to Marmora. First, I want to show you something.”

Shiro watched Keith as he glanced about the opulent lobby with its sparkling chandelier, fresh cut flowers in crystal vases, and marble floors. A sheepish smile indented Shiro’s cheeks as they stepped into the elevator, and he looked away from Keith’s condemning glower.

“Matt picks these places for me. I just listen to him.”

“Where are we?”

“You’ll see.”

They reached the fifty-seventh floor and stepped out into the hallway, where an impeccably dressed man in a tie, heavy coat, and shined boots waited.

“Mr. Shirogane and Mr. Kogane,” the man greeted with a firm handshake. “I’m honored you’re considering the 30 Dalton as your future home. Please, allow me to show you the penthouse suite.”

“Home?” Keith echoed, but Shiro just squeezed his hand.

The manager opened the double-doors in grand style, then stepped out of the way to present the two-story apartment with floor-to-ceiling windows that showcased downtown Boston. Large pillars dominated the living room, which sported a comfy-looking L-shaped couch, a wooden accent wall, and matching floors.

Keith detached himself from Shiro’s side to press his hands against the window and stare down at the crowded streets of Back Bay. Shiro cocked his head to the side, admiring how well his boyfriend fit into the immaculate space.

“Would you like to go over the details, or shall I save those for Mr. Holt?” the manager asked, his voice echoing eerily in the quiet, unlived-in space.

Shiro handed him a pleasant smile. “Would you mind giving us a minute?”

“Of course.” The man all but bowed, and pulled both doors shut behind him.

Shiro prowled up behind Keith, arms slotting about his lover’s hips. Keith tensed but when Shiro started to release him, grabbed his arms and kept them around his waist.

“If you don’t like this set-up, we can look at something else,” Shiro murmured against his hair. “This is just the first one Matt picked out, but there’s a lot of other apartments in the city. And that’s even if I get the gig, y’know?”

Keith’s hands clutched his, demanding, clinging. “Shiro, I-I don’t understand.”

Shiro plopped his chin upon the top of Keith’s head, arms cradling him closer. “Say you’ll move in with me. We’ll pick out a place this weekend, and I’ll put a deposit on it. Then if I get the part, we’ll move to Boston.”

Keith’s hands tightened. “But the shop. Marmora. My uncles – ”

“You said Kolivan was looking at places to own on the North End, right? That’s not far from here. Or you could write. Or whatever you feel like doing. We won’t be too far from Marmora anyway, and well…if I don’t get the part and have to move back to L.A., I’d like you to come with me.”

Keith tore away from Shiro then, running a shaking hand through his long bangs. “I, I don’t know, Shiro. You just came back to Marmora less than two months ago. You were gone for five years, and –”

“I never stopped loving you. You know that.” Shiro stepped forward and stopped short of touching Keith again. “I want to be with you. I knew that when we were sixteen. I knew that the day your mom dropped you off at Kolivan’s, and I’ll never stop wanting to be with you. You’re it for me, too, Keith.”

When Keith turned to him with such an open and vulnerable gaze, Shiro seized his hands and held them close to his chest. “You can say no. I’d—I’d understand, but it wouldn’t change anything. I will still love you forever. I know that now.”

Keith lurched forward then, arms latching onto Shiro and holding firmly, and Shiro responded in kind, refusing to let go. With Keith’s face buried in his shoulder, Shiro barely made out, “There was something I didn’t tell you. I…I didn’t know how.”

“If it’s Throk, it’ll be okay. I’m pretty sure Matt could get me off any assault charges.”

Keith smacked Shiro in the shoulder, just shy of bruising force. “My mom, she came back. To Marmora. We’re…trying. It’s not easy, but she wants to get to know me again. Wants to make it right between us, and – and I want that, too.”

Shiro let out a loud sigh of relief. This, he can deal with.

“Okay. Boston is only two hours away from Marmora. I can commute on most days and just stay here on early or late filming days.”

Keith lifted his head from Shiro’s shoulder and with an uncertain but hopeful gaze, asked, “Do you want to meet her?”

He should have hesitated, but he didn’t. “If you want me to meet her, then I’d like to.”

Shiro held in his fury as Keith asked to get dinner and return to the hotel. He would never forget the times when Keith would lie next to him with their fingers entwined, and wonder why his mother left him in Marmora. But for Keith’s sake, he’d try his best to accept Krolia in his life, into _their_ lives.

* * *

“We should get a house up here,” Lotor proclaimed from behind Shiro’s seat, voice appreciative and awe-struck. “Away from the city. We could come up here on the weekends.”

“There’s apple-picking with fresh cider and doughnuts,” Shiro offered from the driver’s seat, grinning into the rearview mirror. “Hunk’s girlfriend Shay has a great orchard about a half an hour out of Mamora.”

“The leaf peeping is quite exquisite,” Allura added, absently petting Black on her lap.

Keith glanced over his shoulder. “The winters are nice, too. Quiet.”

“It must have been wonderful growing up here. It’s almost as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist.”

Keith shrugged; Shiro tossed him a grin. “Boring half of the time and mind-numbing the other half, but it has its moments. You’ll love it, though. Ojiisan has been wanting to meet you, and I know Pidge will be excited.”

Keith leaned on his propped-up fist and let out a sigh. “Too bad Matt couldn’t join us. Where is he, anyway?”

“I believe he’s negotiating with the studio in New York,” Lotor said. “If the executive producers made an offer, we’ll know soon enough.”

“Ooh. Is this the town center?” Allura wondered, face close to the window as the rural fields and foliage led to the turn-of-the-city stores. The golden and red leaves helped to create that rustic, country feel that never failed to give Shiro a sense of serenity.

“It’s busier than I imagined,” Lotor muttered. “Are there always so many cars? I thought you said this place was in the middle of nowhere.”

Shiro slowed the Charger as it reached the storefronts on Main Street, where cars and vans lined the usually half-filled streets.

Keith flashed a nervous gaze at Shiro. “I don’t think I’ve seen it this busy since the Harvest Festival.”

“What could possibly – ”

“Is that – ”

A crowd of jeans and collared shirt men and women clogged the sidewalks outside of the Blend of Marmora, and more than one spoke into their phones as if on FaceTime. Some lifted up their cameras to capture a picture of the coffeeshop before turning the corner toward Shiro’s house.

Reporters. The paparazzi. The media.

“I thought you said no one knew where you grew up,” Lotor accused.

Shiro shook his head as his stomach plummeted. “No one in L.A. even knows my full name. I’ve made sure to – ”

“They know mine.” Keith’s tight voice stole Shiro’s eyesight. His cheeks were pale, languid, his expression pained. He lifted his phone to show all the notifications from his Instagram post. It had more than a million likes.

“I tagged you. I didn’t think—I never thought—Lance and the guys follow me. My mom. Maybe a few guys from college. That’s it.”

“Your last name,” Allura said with growing urgency. “It’s easily traceable, Keith, and a good researcher could find Shirogane in the county’s tax records easily, which means…”

Shiro pulled up his hood and rounded the bend by the Blend of Marmora – where more than one news crew sat outside of his grandfather’s house.

_To Be Continued..._


	6. The posts are coming from inside the house.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro confronts the person posting the pictures about him.

From the window seat, Shiro watched reporters take pictures of his grandfather’s house. Sometimes a few would look at his window, see him, and then one after another, they’d all take his picture. If he was feeling generous, he’d wave. If he was feeling belligerent—having watched them harass Keith outside of the Blend of Marmora—he’d pull down the shades.

Allura and Lotor stayed less than a day. Allura played video games with Pidge and Lance while Lotor helped Ojiisan and Colleen with dinner. Keith excused himself to check on Kolivan and Antok, though he’d sent an apology pie through Hunk. Shiro spent most of the evening watching as his two lives blended, and it made him ache all over again. He hadn’t needed to stay away all this time, and the way he and Keith found each other again—could they have done it sooner? Or did they ever really need to break up? Shiro downed another beer and turned off his notifications on social media.

The next morning, Allura and Lotor left hoping to lure some of the media away, but they seemingly failed as story after story flooded news broadcasts, tabloids, and social media. By that first evening, the media already began crafting his tragic story, orphaned at the age of two, left in the care of his grandfather who joined forces with a local widow and her two kids to become a family. By day two, they found his car accident and began writing about how it cut his dreams short and left a scar across his face. By day three, they began writing about Keith.

Despite his grandfather’s initial resistance, Ojiisan went to stay at Colleen’s house. Colleen made a compelling argument for him to join them, but Pidge needed to return to the house every morning for work. Shiro figured he might as well keep her company, and the quiet allowed him to finish reading the Osaka movie script.

It was tempting. The script was good and the buzz around it well-deserved. If Shiro could embody the disillusioned daimyo who struggled to honor his father-figure shogun during the Ashikaga Shogunate era of Japan, he held little doubt he wouldn’t be among the distinguished actors recognized by his peers.

Shiro put the script down and leaned back against his headboard, socked feet crossed. Black lay against his leg, rubbing his head against Shiro’s knee. As he scratched behind Black’s ears, Shiro’s eyes naturally fell upon his bedside table, the drawer specifically. The velvet box lay inside, collecting even more dust. Taking the movie wouldn’t necessarily end Shiro’s second chance with Keith. Filming was only three-four months tops in Osaka, and then he’d be back.

Until another movie took him to L.A. or Europe or even Toronto.

That was if Keith decided he was worth the trouble.

Shiro spied the second script, the TV pilot, which was practically his dream project. Allura as his co-star, Lotor in the main cast, an experienced executive producer and a fresh, brilliant head of the story, if the pilot script was any indication. The series would be taped completely in Boston and the surrounding areas. He could further his career and support his family in Marmora.

But an Oscar script sometimes only came around once a lifetime. He might not get another chance like this. The same was true about his relationship with Keith.

Shiro inched to the edge of his bed and opened his drawer. The rings were still there after seven years. He reached for it when a soft knock sounded on his door. He slammed shut the drawer and shifted on the bed, a smile finding his face instantly.

Keith stood in his doorway, red hood up and framing his sun-kissed face, hand resting on Cosmo’s mane. “Hey, seeing guests?”

“Yeah, of course. I didn’t see you come or I would have —”

“Cosmo and I snuck through Iverson’s yard and came over the back fence.” Cosmo jogged forward and coaxed Shiro close, licking Shiro’s offered hand, while Keith leaned against the doorframe. “I, uh, I wanted to see how you’re doing. We haven’t been able to connect since…I, y’know—”

“Put a photo on Instagram and tagged me, which gave the media a frame of reference to find my full name and my life story.”

“Uh, yeah. _That._ ”

“Hey. It’s not your fault.” Shiro scratched behind Cosmo’s ears until he began to pant in delight. “It was bound to happen sooner or later. Glad I got five years of anonymity. That’s pretty much a record in Hollywood.”

Keith banged his head against the doorframe, loud enough to shock Shiro. “You’re—You’re not mad at me?”

Shiro blinked, shock slowing his words. “…why would I be mad at you? It’s not your fault this happened.”

“But I – ”

“—was trying to make me feel better, showed me the post right after you sent it, and then had your life turned upside down _again_ because of me.” Shiro gestured for Keith to join him, and Cosmo took the hint, walking back to Keith to whine and snag his shirt hem. After only two tugs, Keith relented with a tiny sigh, coming to stand between Shiro’s open knees. Shiro took his hands and cradled them in his own.

The vulnerable expression on Keith’s face and his suddenly crystal eyes made Shiro’s heart ache. “Hey, listen to me, babe. This is on me. You didn’t ask for—”

“But—”

“No. No buts, Keith. I’m sorry you have to deal with reporters screaming questions at you and taking pictures and throwing you up on their websites. And it’s all because of me – ”

Keith cut him off with a sudden tug. “No. If it’s not my fault, then then it’s not yours, either.”

“But –”

“No buts.” Keith offered him a devastating half-smile. Shiro found himself smiling in return.

“All right. I guess that’s fair.”

Keith released one of Shiro’s hands while threading their fingers in the other, then settled on the bed next to him. Cosmo came to lay his head upon Shiro’s knee while Black purred upon Keith’s lap.

As Keith used his free hand to pet Black, he asked, “So what happens now?”

“We go about our business,” Shiro said, like it was easy. It wouldn’t be. He knew that, but eventually, they would get there. “You go to work, do your thing. I’ll go food shopping and rake the leaves again. We’ll go for a run every morning like we do now. They’ll follow us around for a bit, no doubt, but they’ll get bored eventually. And then they’ll leave.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.” Shiro shrugged. “People want drama. They want to see into the private lives of celebrities until they realize we’re just people, and they don’t want to see normal people doing normal things. That’s boring.”

“We can’t let it end just like that.” Keith took out his phone and with a challenging grin, fell back onto the bed. Shiro followed him and tipped his head to the side, so his temple pressed against Keith’s hair.

“Say espresso,” Keith ordered before snapping another picture.

“What are you going to write with this one?” Shiro asked as Keith typed.

“ ‘Meet Takashi Shirogane, my boyfriend, best friend, and favorite son of Marmora. He likes venti sugar free Caramel Macchiatos with skim milk, an extra shot and extra hot with extra whip, and he can watch his own movies and laugh at them. Yes, he knows how bad Return to Beta Traz was, but he hopes you enjoyed it anyway. And while he’s your Shiro outside of Marmora, he’s my Shiro here.’”

Shiro shifted to press brief kiss against Keith’s temple, blinking back the tears that stung his eyes. “Staking your claim a second time, huh?”

Keith settled against Shiro’s side, his warmth addictive and welcome. “I know I have to share you with the world, but…I missed you. I know you have to go back, but I sometimes wonder what would have happened if we hadn’t been in the accident, if you’d finished your degree and went on to work for the Galaxy Garrison.”

Shiro’s fingers brushed a cool path along Keith’s forehead. “I’ve thought about it, too.” A beat passed, then another. “If-If I’d have asked you to stay in L.A. with me, all those years ago, would you have?”

When Keith remained quiet, Shiro continued with his soft ministrations, waiting patiently, enjoying the simple warmth of his lover. He wondered if he’d ever get an answer or if he’d somehow offended Keith, but then Keith replied, “I think I would have done anything you asked, Shiro. I think I still would.”

“What do you want, Keith? Here. Now. Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear. Tell me what you actually want.”

Another long moment. When Keith finally spoke, his voice was wondering and slow. “I…I don’t want you to leave again. I know that much. It’s only been a little over a month, and I don’t know how I ever lived without you. Without texting you or seeing you. Anything. I don’t want to go back to that.”

Shiro’s hand dropped to Keith’s shoulder, bringing him close. “I’m here, Keith. I’m here. “

“I…I’m not sure what I want, other than you in my life.”

“Okay.” Shiro pressed his lips against Keith’s forehead for a prolonged embrace, heart thundering in his chest as he thought about the rings in his side drawer. He could take it out and offer eternity, but Shiro wouldn’t force Keith to make decision he wasn’t ready for.

“We’ll take it slow then, until you do. One day at a time. One moment at a time.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Keith’s voice was more confident and steadied. He raised his head to meet Shiro’s gaze with a crooked grin. “We have the house all to ourselves, don’t we?”

“No!” someone shouted from the next room over. Pidge.

“We’ll be quiet!” Keith yelled back.

“I’m going downstairs for lunch.” Her voice echoed in the hallway now. “I’ll be back in thirty.”

Keith lifted a leg over Shiro’s and ghosted his lips along Shiro’s collarbone. Shiro barely held in a moan, hands slipping under Keith’s shirt. “Can you make it an hour?” he called.

“I can, but why? Neither of you can last that long.”

Shiro debated whether to get up and throw a pillow at her, but when Keith nipped behind his ear, he put it on his mental “to-do” list. After all, Shiro still hadn’t gotten PIdge back for that flushing incident.

* * *

Life went back to normal quicker than even Shiro anticipated. Keith and he left the reporters in the dust on their morning run, and despite a few taking to their cars, Officer Ozar refused to let the vehicles onto the running trails. Cosmo ran alongside Keith to keep the remaining reporters away, though the massive wolf joined Shiro for the middle miles when Keith left Shiro in the dust.

Keith shrugged off Shiro’s glare. “He wanted to keep you safe.”

“He or you?”

“Hunk saved you a raspberry scone,” Keith replied, and thus, Shiro admitted defeat. He even accepted when Cosmo followed him into the house. He would have complied, but when Cosmo jumped onto his bed and acted like a makeshift pillow, Shiro fell asleep before he could even text Keith.

By Wednesday morning of the second week, the media let them jog alone. By Wednesday afternoon, the reporters started getting restless when Keith refused to answer any of any questions and Kolivan started to pull the blinds at the café. The media tried to talk to Trigel and Blaytz and Gyrgan, but no one in Marmora, not even the town gossips, would give the media the time of day. By Friday morning, the story began to exhaust resources and the reporters’ patience. Most left town, so only a few caught Hollywood’s leading man when he showed up on Shiro’s doorstep.

The knock came firm and resounding, so much so that Shiro heard it from the kitchen. Colleen and Ojiisan were scheduled to return home that night, so Shiro decided to serve the family a celebratory dinner. Gyoza, tamagoyaki, soba, and baked ziti made the list, and Hunk had offered to drop off a freshly baked cheese and cherry ring. Shiro only briefly wondered why Hunk would use the front entrance and not the back door when Cosmo growled.

“It’s Hunk, Cosmo,” Shiro said with a playful tassel of the wolf’s mane. “You love Hunk.” Everyone loved Hunk.

But when Shiro opened the door, it wasn’t Hunk on his doorstep. “…Sendak?”

Dressed in a sharp navy suit, Sendak stood out on Ojiisan’s porch and in the town of Marmora in general. The first two buttons of his red dress shirt were undone to reveal the toned muscle underneath, and a matching scarf wrapped about his collar and hung like honor cords on a college graduate. His black overcoat completed his ensemble, making him look like a Wall Street executive who took the wrong exit off the Interstate.

Sendak was an Academy Award-winning actor for a reason, and with a hand casually in his pocket and a killer smile upon his face, he seemed at ease, even with the remaining media snapping pictures behind him. But after so many years sharing a set, Shiro could see Sendak’s discomfort in his forced smile and gentle tone.

“Hello, Takashi. You look well.” Sendak let out a quiet laugh. “The flour on your cheek suits you.”

Shiro’s bearings returned. He wiped his cheek furiously as Cosmo growled, stealing Sendak’s attention. “So this is Kogane’s beast. I see its protective nature has not been overstated.”

It took all of Shiro’s mental strength to reach for Cosmo’s collar and pull him back. “What do you want, Sendak?”

“To speak with you. You weren’t returning my calls. This seemed to be my only option.” He motioned toward the door. “Do you mind if I come in?”

Shiro debated slamming the door in Sendak’s face but eventually relented, stepping aside and allowing his one-time mentor in. The media craved drama, and a public fight with Sendak would be just that.

Once inside, Sendak shrugged out of his coat and draped it over the spine of the couch. “Charming town, Takashi. It suits you. And I saw congratulations are in order.”

“I doubt you came all the way up here to critique my hometown and high-five me for getting my personal life in order.” Shiro bent down to be even with Cosmo as the beast became more and more restless. “You better get talking. I’m not Cosmo’s owner, so I don’t know if he’s had all his shots.”

If Sendak noticed or cared, he didn’t show it. “I see you’re not in a mood to talk, so I will be – ”

“Talk? What is there to talk about?” Shiro uncrossed his arms with a huff as Sendak sat in the middle of the love seat. “You’ve been leaking pictures of me – private pictures of me – to the press for weeks, and you think – ”

Sendak blinked, eyes widening in a bewildered expression. “Excuse me?”

Shiro let out a sardonic laugh. “Don’t tell me you are going to deny it. Most of those pictures were taken at your place, and now you just show up in Marmora and think you can – ”

“You…You believe I’m the source of your recent and unfortunate press attention?” Sendak was an amazing actor, one of the best Shiro had ever had the pleasure to work with, but after five movies and years of friendship, Shiro could tell when Sendak was acting.

He wasn’t now.

A dark chill settled in Shiro’s stomach, and he collapsed onto the middle cushion of the sofa. “It…it wasn’t you?”

“Of course, it wasn’t. I would never betray your trust or privacy in such a manner, and if anyone understands the necessity of discretion, it is I.”

Shiro held in the snort but barely. Sendak stood at the top of the Hollywood elite. Accomplished. Demure. Professional…except when he bedded both a studio head and her husband. And their nanny, according to the divorce filing.

Sendak stood abruptly, towering over Shiro in the living room, and buttoned his jacket. “I do not know what I have done for you to believe I would be capable of such heinous actions against you, Takashi, but I see now I should not have bothered to come. I will take my leave of you.”

He was halfway to the door before Shiro regained his bearings and blurted, “Why did you come?”

Sendak snatched his jacket and adjusted it over his broad shoulders. “Because you should take the Osaka project. The director is a genius. The writer grew up in Japan. It’s authentic; it’s real. And you’re perfect for the lead role. I’ve been cast as the shogun, and with the right daimyo, the movie will sweep the Oscars. You will finally get the recognition you deserve.”

Sendak sighed after tugging his scarf tails even and leveled Shiro with a condemning glare. “You have such talent, Takashi. I have no doubt you could be the leading man of Hollywood, but I have heard the rumors. This new show is beneath you. It’s in Boston. It has a new head of story. It will not challenge you. It certainly will not garner any accolades or awards. You’ll be like every other B-rate actor who gives up the big screen. I do not want that for you. You shouldn’t want that for yourself.”

Sendak left Shiro reeling as he turned toward the exit, but Shiro called, “Sendak!”

Sendak stopped, a hand upon the door.

“Thank you.”

Sendak hesitated, Shiro noticed with alarm, and then he glared over his shoulder. “Those photos, Takashi. They were taken around the same time, a few months after you first came to live in L.A. Perhaps I and only one other person would have such intimate photographs of you from that time period.”

Keith did. When Shiro initially left for L.A., they were still together, texted and talked daily. But Keith wasn’t in L.A. with him for the majority of his stay.

“It was you,” Shiro growled into his cellphone only a few moments later. “You released those pictures about me.”

Matt Holt let out a tired sigh. “No offense, bro, but I’m kinda disappointed it took you this long.”

The words were meant to tease, to relieve the tension, but instead, they infuriated Shiro. “What were you thinking? You turned my private life into _entertainment._ ”

“You make it sound like a bad thing.”

“Because it is!” Shiro snatched the pot as it began to boil over and threw the contents—noodles and all—into the sink. “You had no right to have those recordings and pictures, let alone –”

“I showed the world how you would be the perfect spokesperson for underwear. B-T-W, Fruit of the Loom’s stock went up three points that week, and you don’t even wear their briefs.”

“That’s not the fucking point.” The heat rose in Shiro’s cheeks; his voice grew strained. “I trust you with everything. _Everything,_ and you used that against me. And for what? Studios hate drama. So do execs and –”

“You’re not mad about that,” Matt dismissed. “You could give two shits about your career.”

Matt was right. Shiro didn’t care what some faceless corporate drone thought of him, and as long as he brought people to the theatres, studios would keep offering him projects.

“You showed Keith how I acted. He didn’t need to know how I dealt with our break-up, let alone millions of people worldwide. And I don’t even know _why.”_

Silence greeted him until Matt said, “Because the Osaka project is perfect for you. You’d take it, get an Oscar, and never come home. And you needed to go home, Shiro. It had been five years.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make.”

“Oh, come on. You left Marmora to Keith, but Keith doesn’t own it. He only owns you.”

Shiro rolled his eyes.

“Ojiisan isn’t getting any younger. Pidge and the guys missed you, too. Not just Keith, and this new show will be fun, Shiro. You’ll absolutely love it.”

“But Osaka—”

“—is best for your career, maybe, not your life. This show has Allura and Lotor, and it’s within driving distance of Marmora. You know it’s awesome. You want to do it.”

“That’s my decision to make.”

“And you wouldn’t have chosen it!” Matt exasperated. “Shiro, every time I brought up Marmora, you refused to even talk about it. You wouldn’t even film in Boston before this.”

Shiro fought the urge to throw his phone. “Look, what I decide to do—”

“But that’s just it. You didn’t _do_ anything. Five years, Shiro! Keith dumped you five years ago, and you never moved on. You never even went out on a date. In _L.A._ ”

“Well, I’m sorry I don’t date everything that moves like some people, but – ”

“Get salty all you want, but I’m happy. Are you?”

Shiro sat down at the kitchen table, where the chopped vegetables and wrappers remained unmade for the gyoza. He wanted to reply, but his mouth refused to form the word.

“You missed Marmora,” Matt ventured. “You missed Keith, and you’d do anything for him, even if it meant staying away from him. And he’d do anything for you, including dumping you and refusing to ask you to come home. He didn’t move on either. Do you know what he did these last five years?”

“Yeah.” Shiro tried to ignore the feeling of Keith’s warm body against his, his hands plastered to Keith’s ass as they made out on the car hood a few weeks ago. He failed. “Keith got a creative writing degree.”

“Right. Creative writing. You know what you do with one of those?”

Shiro hated when Matt spoke to him like he was six—even though he really was. “Write stories.”

“And what do you act in?”

Shiro dropped his head to the kitchen table with a thud.

“Exactly.”

When he decided to become an astrophysicist, Keith followed him. After the accident, Shiro went into acting, and Keith had followed him yet again.

“I wasn’t going to let you miss out on the role of a lifetime because you’re stubborn, Shiro.”

“So instead you showed my old boyfriend how he wrecked me and posted revealing pictures of me to millions of people around the world—just to get us back together?”

“You can thank me—”

“No. _No._ ” Shiro ignored the throbbing in his forehead. “You don’t get to manipulate my life, Matt!”

Matt snorted. “So what do you want? You’d rather just take job after job and stay away from the only place you call home. You want to lose out on the greatest thing that ever happened to you because you were too scared to try again?”

“It was _his_ choice to walk away, not mine.”

Matt’s voice dropped to a low scream. “Not everyone had our parents, and not everyone has their shit together, including you. Roll your eyes at me all you want—”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were. Yeah, the Oaska job is perfect for you. You _should_ take it, but this one? This stupid comedy buddy cop show – it’s gonna win Emmys, Shiro. And it’s going to be fun. It’s going to be the role of a lifetime. You trust me, don’t you?”

Shiro hung up.

* * *

Krolia lived outside of the town of Marmora, in a condo near the university. Ojiisan and Colleen passed it every day on the way to work, and Keith explained how they stopped by every once and a while with pictures from Shiro and Keith’s high school years.

“They like to show Mom what I was like as an awkward teen,” Keith commiserated.

Krolia could have seen for herself if she’d dropped by even once during Keith’s time in Marmora, but Shiro held his tongue. Keith wanted to be close to his mother again, and Shiro wanted that for him, too.

Krolia welcomed Keith with a kiss on the top of his head before offering a hand to Shiro. Her firm handshake was impressive, and Shiro returned it in kind. He broke into a pleasant smile as he drunk in the similarities between mother and son. It was from Krolia Keith received his lithe build, high cheekbones, and intense eyes. Krolia wore a simple tank top over tight jeans, just like Keith. Nature outdid nurture in the Kogane Family, it seemed.

When she welcomed them into her home, Shiro found it warm if minimal in décor. He smiled at the pictures on the mantle of Keith throughout his childhood, and he even spotted himself in one of them, a picture from Keith’s high school graduation.

Shiro lingered upon a few pictures he didn’t recognize – a family portrait with a man who Shiro assumed was Keith’s dad; Keith’s uncle and his mother with Keith dressed in a black robe and golden cords – his college graduation day; Lance and Keith on the same day; Krolia in her navy dress blues and Keith in a Blend of Marmora shirt for what appeared to be Career Day; and Matt and Keith outside of the Puig theatre.

Shiro’s eyes widened. Matt and Keith spoke during those five years Shiro and Matt lived in California? Matt never mentioned that; neither had Keith.

Before he could ask, Krolia asked him if he wanted a beer, and he gladly accepted. He’d hold his questions for Keith until after the dinner.

Krolia decided on grilled steak, charred tomatoes, and mashed potatoes for dinner, but she left the cooking to Keith and took Shiro to the side of the back patio. Shiro took a swig of his beer as Krolia watched the sunset over the vibrant autumn ridges.

“Kolivan speaks highly of you. Said you were Keith’s first friend in Marmora.”

Shiro nodded, meeting her tense gaze when it turned on him. “Kolivan’s shop is around the corner from my grandfather’s place. It was easy for us to hang out.”

“Hm. How much of that was supervised?”

Shiro didn’t have enough alcohol in his system for this conversation. “Kolivan and Ojiisan trusted us. We weren’t stupid.”

“My son made me watch _Return to Beta Traz_ last weekend. You agreed to make that atrocity.”

“That…was an incredibly terrible effort.” Shiro took a swig of his beer and jerked a shoulder. “But it wasn’t as bad as the third movie.”

Krolia held her beer bottle close to her mouth in an aborted swig. “I thought they ended the series after the sequel.”

“That’s what I tell everyone. The studio actually started filming the third movie before they pulled funding.” He leaned close to murmur, “My character started the movie in prison.”

“And why is that problem?”

“The prison uniforms didn’t have a shirt, and the make-up artist took liberties with my fake tattoos.”

Krolia looked down at his chest and arms, held tight in a gray Henley shirt, and let out a breathless chuckle. “That would have helped the second movie. That one shirtless scene wasn’t enough to carry the film.”

“So you’re saying neither were my acting skills.”

Krolia reached out to run a hand through his fringe. “You’re lucky you’re cute, kid.”

 _Kid._ Keith had said on the way over that nicknames were a good sign and indicated Krolia was lowering her guard. Shiro ran a shaking hand across the facial scar, and when the steak sizzled and Keith flipped them on the grill, he lowered his hand to see Krolia watching him.

Shiro waited for Krolia to speak, filling the silence with a long swig and watching Keith nurse his own drink.

Krolia followed his gaze, her own softening. “Keith told me about the accident.”

Shiro tried not to think of that night when he didn’t have to. A perfect date, a drunk driver, a dark country road. It left a scar across both their faces, stole their dreams and took Shiro’s arm, but Shiro managed to save what mattered most to him.

“You turned the car to accept the hit.”

It happened too fast, and he remembered only bits and pieces in the weeks following the accident. But Ozar said the positioning of Ojiisan’s Focus meant Shiro must have noticed the oncoming crash and swerved, so the truck hit the driver’s side and not straight on.

“It was nothing.” And he meant it. “Keith would have done the same for me.”

Krolia let silence act as her acquiescence before finishing off her beer. “Did Keith ever tell you about his father?”

“A firefighter,” Shiro croaked. It took him a moment to find his voice again. “Died in the line of duty.”

“Keith’s dad and me – we were young when we got together. Perhaps too young, but we tried to make it work. He was a good man, did things others were afraid to or couldn’t.” She wiped her finger along the top of the bottle. “You remind me of him.”

Shiro bowed his head, eyes never leaving hers. “Thank you.”

“It was hard for both of us when we lost him,” Krolia continued after a nod. “With my constant transfers—I wanted Keith to have stability. I had hoped Marmora would provide him that. I didn’t realize someone could.”

Shiro ducked his head as the tips of his ears burned. He wasn’t sure how to respond, so he didn’t.

A hand came to rest upon his arm, his metal arm, which ached in an old, familiar pain. “I cannot begin to imagine what you’ve gone through in the last few years, but—”

“Can we talk about something else?” he asked, hand curling into a fist. “Anything else?”

“Of course, but I just wanted to thank you for saving my son.”

“Keith’s everything to me,” Shiro admitted.

Krolia smiled, heartbreakingly gentle. “Me, too.”

By the way her eyes glistened and then shifted back to create the grill, Shiro could tell she meant it. Perhaps he’d been wrong all those nights he loathed her for making Keith question his worth. It must have been difficult to decide to give your son to someone else to raise, to try to give him opportunities he’d never have with her. He couldn’t imagine the heartbreak Krolia must have felt on holidays and Keith’s birthday, how she’d receive updates from Kolivan and Antok but not be able to see her son.

Shiro had been the lucky one, to have Keith on all those days.

“I’m glad you found each other again,” Shiro said, and Krolia lifted her bottle to clink his.

A beat passed, then another, and Shiro went to finish off his beer. Unfortunately, that was when Krolia decided to speak again, “So you two always used a condom?”

Shiro spat out his swig and hacked up some of his last one. Keith happened to come to his side then, slipping an arm about Shiro’s waist. “Mom, please don’t kill my boyfriend.”

“I wasn’t intentionally trying, but accidents do happen.”

As Shiro drew in long, dragging breaths, the conversation from the car replayed in his head. Keith had given him the rundown on Krolia on the way over.

“Armed and unarmed combat. Tactical mobility training. Essentially, she can find you anywhere and kill you, so there’s no point in running.”

He hadn’t even finished the conversation with, “but she’ll tolerate you,” because there was no guarantee.

“I’m…uh, gonna get another one,” Shiro wheezed before plucking the empty bottle from Krolia’s grip. “Keith, you want one?”

Keith’s skeptical eye remained laser-focused, but he relented a moment later with a tiny grin. “Sure. They’re in the fridge.”

Shiro stepped inside the house and took the reprieve to gather his bearings. A deep breath, three seconds and release. He repeated the motion until his skin didn’t feel so tight, his jeans so rough against his thighs, and then he ducked into the fridge for three bottles. When he shut the door, a persistent buzzing caught his attention. Keith’s phone was vibrating on countertop.

Ignoring his instincts—he shouldn’t read Keith’s private messages—Shiro leaned over to see the incoming text.

 **Matt:** [7:56]  
_Offer still not signed  
you need to tell him_

“Tell me what?” Shiro asked less than a minute later, handing Keith his phone.

Keith’s eyebrows pinched as he read the text, and then he looked stricken. His shoulders slumped, and he glanced toward his mother, who replied, “Time to come clean, kiddo.”

Shiro waited, and he wondered if not for the first time if he’d always be waiting for Keith.

But Keith sighed a moment later and ran a hand through his bangs. He then stunned Shiro with wide, trembling eyes. “I’m the head of story for _Beantown._ ”

The air around Shiro thinned, sending his head spinning. “What?”

“Pidge told Matt when I switched my major, and we started talking. He helped me get a few freelance gigs with the WGE, and one of the EPs I wrote for asked me to help create on a new series. That’s _Beantown._ ”

A white heat spread from Shiro’s gut, fueled by a heavy dose of hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me? Or were you working with Matt all this time to bring me back to Marmora?”

“What? N-No. I said I wanted you for one of the leads, but he said—”

Shiro’s throat tightened, and he stumbled a step back. _“I gotta go…”_

“Shiro! Wait! _Shiro!”_

Shiro heard Keith’s footsteps hurrying behind him, but he was already through the sliding back door and hurrying through the living room. As he ripped open the door of the Charger’s door, Keith slammed it shut before he could get in.

“Shiro, please! It’s not what you think.”

“That I can’t trust you?” Shiro shot back, but then he couldn’t stop. “That out of everyone in the world, I thought you’d always have my back, but even you lied to me.”

“Because I didn’t want you to take the job because of me.”

“Of course I was going to take the job because of you!” Shiro tried to open the car door, but Keith leaned upon it, keeping it shut. “I wanted to be close to you and Ojiisan and our friends again. And I liked the project. It’s well-written, Keith.” He paused and with no shortness of pride, added, “You are so talented. I cannot tell how you much I enjoyed the script. Congratulations. The series – it’s truly fantastic.”

Keith blinked, stunned. “Then…I don’t understand…? Why are you mad?”

Shiro sighed and leaned against his back against the car. “Matt released the pictures of me, not Sendak.”

Indigo irises blew wide. “What? No way. Matt would never—”

“Betray me like that? Or lie to me? Or keep information from me?” By the pain that flashed across Keith’s face, Shiro knew his jab hit the mark. Regret immediately seized him. “Look, I don’t know who I can trust or what I did to deserve this.”

“No, Shiro, it’s not you. You gotta believe—”

“—that my brother took private pictures of me and posted them online for the world to see? Or my boyfriend got a new job and didn’t tell me? And somehow, neither of those are my fault? I didn’t do something to deserve my best friend in the entire world first dumping me and not trusting me enough to confide in me?”

Keith shifted to lean his back against the car to be even with Shiro. “It wasn’t anything you did, Shiro. Matt didn’t have the right to release those pictures of you, and I-I should have told you about _Beantown._ It was wrong of me to keep it from you.”

Shiro let out a sigh and took Keith’s hand, threading their fingers together. It would hurt, but it hurt the first time he left Marmora. He survived that time. He’d survive this, too. So would Keith.

“Sendak came by my house yesterday. He asked me to do the Oaska movie with him.”

Keith flinched as if physically hit.

“Between the leaks from Matt and now this – I came to Marmora to get my head on straight, and everything I thought I knew and thought I could trust was a lie.”

Keith looked away, his eyes slipping closed. “Shiro, please…you can’t leave again.”

Shiro’s heart tore; his voice was raw and pitiful. “I-I just…need some time. To process and think. To figure out… _everything._ ”

“How much time?”

“I don’t know,” Shiro admitted. He made himself turn to see the tears sparkling in Keith’s eyes and then squeezed his hand one more time. “Good luck, Keith. You deserve the world.”

That shocked Keith, causing his grip to loosen and allowing Shiro to pull away. He left Keith on the driveaway and wished he’d been able to look one more time to see him.

After a brief stop at home to fill a single duffle, Shiro ordered an uber. He managed to get to Logan International in less than an hour and booked the next flight to the West Coast.

Fearing the media, Shiro avoided his house in the Hollywood Hills and drove his rental to a large house in Malibu. Sendak buzzed him through the massive gates and then greeted him in the garage. Shiro sighed as he stepped out of his car.

“I…I didn’t know where else to go.”

Sendak said nothing, just tucked Shiro under his arm, and led him inside the house.

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	7. Rings and Things...like feelings

Sendak’s massive Malibu mansion was a hideaway. Surrounded by large gates and a tropical garden, the house provided refuge from the outside world, and short of a helicopter flying overhead, no one would find Shiro.

The house itself was rather small with a galley kitchen separating the dining area, which led to a large, sunken couch with hardwood floors, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a non-existent fourth wall that opened to a large pool deck. Shiro took refuge in the guest quarters, which had their own entrance to the pool and enough space to let him recover, despite the constant throbbing in his chest.

Shiro lived on whatever Sendak’s personal chef made, which tasted divine, and Sendak knocked on his door the day after Shiro arrived and threatened to throw him out if he didn’t enter the main living area at least once a day.

As a week turned into two, Shiro began to help Sendak practice his lines.

“I’m a good actor, Takashi, but even I can’t act against a cardboard cut-out.”

Shiro laughed and tried the lines again, after which Sendak snatched the script and stormed away.

Allura texted and called multiple times, demanding to know why he left the East Coast without informing her. When Shiro eventually picked up, there wasn’t much to say.

“The part wasn’t right for me.”

“The part wasn’t right for you or right for your ego?” she huffed, and on his phone screen, she curled her long strands around her index finger. “This role is perfect for you. You’ll enjoy it.”

“It won’t win any awards.”

“Since when has that ever mattered to you?”

It didn’t. Of course Allura would know that.

“Stop making excuses for why you shouldn’t take this project and actually decide what it is you want to do.”

“And if it’s not _Beantown?_ ”

“You’d be making a terrible mistake, but if it’s not, then I’m sure you’ll commit to a project that showcases your talent and is worth your time.”

Shiro sighed and leaned back to take a nap.

Around the end of the second week, Sendak led someone into the living room area. Shiro sat up on the couch and blinked at the massive figure standing just inside the doorway. “Kolivan? What are you doing here?”

“Hello, Takashi.” Kolivan dipped his hand into his duffle and pulled out a football. “I thought we could talk for a few moments.”

It was their routine in high school following a hard win or a crushing defeat. After Shiro shed his upper pads, Kolivan would lead him out onto the field to throw the ball back and forth, helping to calm Shiro’s nerves and mind. Sometimes they talked about the game. Sometimes they talked about anything but. Keith usually sat on the bench, texting Hunk to make Shiro’s favorite sweets to help him feel better.

“You didn’t have to come all the way out here,” Shiro said, placing his fingers on the laces just so. “This is between Keith and –”

“It’s bigger than just the two of you.” Kolivan stood a few feet away on Sendak’s driveway and caught the ball. “After Keith’s father died, Krolia hoped Marmora would give Keith stability. But he was withdrawn, not prone to making friends or forming strong bonds. I would be remiss if I didn’t say I was…relieved when you began to hang around the coffeeshop. Good kid, valued grades, only picked up by Ozar on mischief night or for other adolescent antics. You had a good group of friends, ones I had hoped would embrace Keith, and they did.”

Shiro ducked his head, heat flushing his cheeks. When Kolivan clapped his hands, Shiro threw the ball back. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand why you’re telling –”

“When Keith came to live with me and Antok, it didn’t help to dissolve Keith’s fears. He lost his father and his mother, one way or another, in less a year. It made him fear losing you as well.”

“And leaving for Hollywood didn’t help.”

Kolivan nodded. “Instead of waiting for you to leave, he left you, but I don’t believe the situation was as devastating as you believed it to be. You became a world-renowned actor. Keith became a compelling storyteller. You’ve both grown into strong, capable people.”

Shiro caught the ball just before it hit his cheek. “You…don’t think I’m good for Keith anymore?”

“Everything he’s done, he’s always done for you, Takashi. But Keith is now independent and growing into his own. He’s going to succeed, something he always chased when with you.” Kolivan released a quick sigh and walked forward to pluck the ball from Shiro’s limp hands. “Keith let you go, so you could succeed, Shiro. It’s time for you to do the same for him.”

* * *

Kolivan spent less than a day in California and headed back to the East Coast on the red eye. Shiro returned to his own house in the Hollywood Hills, a smaller home with a terrace overlooking the bustling valley below. He opened a bottle of beer and leaned against the railing, just watching the stars twinkle in the sky.

After taking a long swig, he retreated to his own bag and pulled out the velvet box he moved from his bedside table. Perhaps he had been selfish all these years, but Keith was his stability. Being back in Marmora again, being back in Keith’s arms again, made him feel calm and content in a way he never had in L.A. He hoped Keith felt the same way about being back together with him.

Shiro supported Keith in all his endeavors rather than simply relying upon him. It was why he didn’t propose. It was why he left when Keith rejected him five years ago. He would do anything for Keith.

Shiro threw back another swig and forgot how lonely L.A. was.

An alarming noise startled Shiro, and he grabbed his phone from his back pocket.

 **Lance:** [11:57]  
 _Hey u ok? Been 2 weeks.  
You coming home next sat for movie  
night?_

Shiro let out a breathless laugh. Ever since that first weekend when TMZ released his post-break-up video, the group had met for movie night. They branched out from his flicks and watched a few of Allura’s and Lotor’s. They’d even binge-watched one of Hunk’s favorite cooking shows and the next day, they all attempted to make a dish for dinner. They had varying degrees of success, but Lance’s family wasn’t called out. So overall, not a bad effort, though Hunk had deemed Shiro’s mint chocolate chip brownies “underwhelming but edible.” Shiro called that a win.

 **Lance:** [11:57]  
 _Duuuuuuuude. Don’t make me  
pull out the big guns._

A minute passed as Shiro debated a response, but before he could text one, he received a notification that Pidge had pinged him on Instagram. Less than a moment later, his phone exploded with notifications of likes and reblogs. He was apprehensive to see what picture she’d posted but checked anyway, finding a picture of Ojiisan’s living room. Keith occupied the love seat with Black lying across his lap. He looked sad and lonely, and didn’t even bother looking at the camera.  
Pidge captioned it with, “Saturday night at the movies. Don’t forget to come home @Black_Paladin. We miss you!”

Shaking his head, Shiro wondered if he should retaliate with a picture of Pidge at her desk with her green cat headphones when a throat cleared behind him. “Watch out for those two. They fight dirty.”

Shiro peeked over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “Come to get fired?”

From the opening of his terrace, Matt Holt smirked. “Better to do it in person than over the phone.”

With his light brown pulled back in a loose tail, a bomber jacket over pressed jeans, and a dress shirt with the top buttons undone, Matt played the role of agent to the stars well. A leather traveling satchel hung at his hip, and he already held a beer bottle in his hand.

Shiro snorted and leaned against the railing. “Unlike your last relationship.”

“Relationship?” Matt asked as he shrugged out of his jacket and threw his bag on a lounger. “When was the last time I had a relationship? Who’s spreading rumors about me?”

“You know all about rumors, don’t you?”

“So you’re still mad. I get it.”

“Understatement of the year.” Shiro waited until Matt joined him at the railing and wished he was more than one beer in. “Look, I appreciate you coming all the way out here, but I don’t know—”

“I was wrong,” Matt said with a shrug, widening Shiro’s eyes. His head whipped around to see Matt’s lips about his bottle top, amber eyes glowing in the night’s darkness. “I shouldn’t have released those photos of you.”

Shiro allowed the words to sink in before clinking his bottle against Matt’s. “Mom or Ojiisan?”

“Both,” Matt laughed. “Apparently, you told Keith, and Keith told Pidge and Pidge told Mom. I also got a few angered texts from Lance, and even a denial of pie from Hunk the next time I’m in Marmora.”

“Denial of pie? Wow. I don’t think Hunk has ever threatened that.”

“I hope I can sweet talk him. I’ll have the time.” Matt straightened his back and groaned. “I’m moving to New York.”

“New York?” Shiro echoed. “You’re not saying in L.A.?”

Another shrug. “It’s nice out here, but it’s time to go home. And Boston doesn’t work for me. New York is where some of the studios have offices.”

“Don’t want to take Keith’s job at the Blend?”

“As tempting as that sounds, no.” Matt’s smile was knowing. “How about you? You coming?”

Shiro’s chest clenched; Kolivan’s words replayed in his head. “Not sure. Might take the Osaka project to clear my head.”

“From what? Keith banging on it a bit hard?”

Shiro elbowed Matt in the side. “Geez, could your brain be any farther in the gutter?”

“You didn’t say I’m wrong,” Matt wheezed, cradling his side. “Is that what you want? To take the Osaka project?”

Shiro rung the back of his neck, then met Matt’s questioning gaze. “I…I don’t know. Everything‘s all…messed up.”

“That’s fair, but can you do me a favor?”

“I’m not giving you that pic from junior high. I need some blackmail material.”

“Please. To get that, I wouldn’t even need Pidge. Your passcode is the same number it’s been since high school – 072011, the day your favorite moon was discovered.” When Shiro hit him in the shoulder, Matt snorted. “God, we really were nerds, weren’t we?”

Shiro sighed and leaned back upon his elbows to gaze up into the starry sky. “I don’t even know how I got here. One play led to a movie and then another and another.”

Matt gazed up, too. “Mom thought it would be good for your self-esteem after the accident. I don’t think she knew just how well you’d woo the Hollywood elite.”

“This was never my dream,” Shiro admitted in a soft whisper. “I wanted to go into space. I wanted to explore the cosmos. I wanted to touch the heavens.”

“Hm. Like I hadn’t heard that every day since we went to the planetarium in first grade.”

“It was second.”

“No, it was first. Remember? We were in Ms. Dalterion’s class.”

“We were in Mr. Nalquod’s.”

“That was the year when Teosh got left behind at the – oh, that was Nalquod’s.” When Shiro rolled his eyes, his metal fingers clinked against the railing. Matt’s eyes softened. “Does it still hurt?”

Shiro glanced down at his hand and clenched it into a fist. “Sometimes. The skin around the port gets hot, and during the summer, I get a rash. But the prosthetic keeps the phantom pain attacks down, and Keith likes when I use it for – uh, certain actions.”

“Bro, geez.” Matt threw a weak punch against Shiro’s shoulder. “You can’t say that stuff like that after you break up with him.”

“I did? When?”

“How do you not know?”

“How would _you?_ ” Shiro cocked a skeptical eyebrow. “You’ve never been in a relationship.”

“You’re not allowed to judge, he who hasn’t dated anyone other than his high school sweetheart.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Matt snorted and retreated to one of the loungers, laying back and crossing his ankles. “All I’m saying is – there are so many pine needles around here, it might as well be the week after Christmas, and the tree’s all dried out.”

Shiro couldn’t argue with that. “So Pidge said I broke up with Keith?”

“Lance, actually, but maybe he jumped to conclusions or you’re as oblivious as you’ve always been when it comes to Keith.”

“ _Ouch._ ”

“You know it was my fault, right?” Matt said, voice low and full of remorse. “Why Keith dumped you the first time.”

Shiro laughed as he came to plopped down upon the second loungers, eyes dark and glistening in the moon’s light. “You make it sound like they’ll be a second time.”

Matt rolled his head to the side to glower. “I told Keith about the Captain America role. I told him why you passed up on it.”

After all these years, after everything they’d been through – Shiro couldn’t find it in himself to be mad about that. “Don’t worry, Matt. There’s more than enough for me to blame you for, but telling Keith something I should have told him myself, isn’t one of them.” He tipped back another swig. “Is there anyone special in New York? Perhaps that studio exec you wined and dined for a few weeks.”

“She wasn’t really my type.”

“She doesn’t have legs? Or she couldn’t put up with you for more than a month?”

“Closer to the second one. Also, she was looking for a commitment, and this Holt isn’t ready for the bling yet.” Matt waved his fourth finger. “How about you? Still have the rings?”

Maybe it was stupid to save every paycheck from his work at Sal’s farm three summers in a row to buy your boyfriend a ring before he even graduated high school, but Shiro never regretted that. He only regretted never asking Keith. “They probably don’t fit anymore.”

Matt shifted on the lounger to mirror Shiro in a cross-legged position, then he leaned forward, not back. “What do you want, Shiro? Tell me, and I’ll make it happen.”

Oh, that was such a loaded question. Shiro wanted so many things – to never have been on that road, to never have taken that small movie gig, to have never left Marmora.

So he said the truth. “I want…Keith to be happy. That’s…it. If that means moving on without me, then…I’ll take the Osaka project.” He let a tired smile cross his face. “There are worse ways to get over a break-up than a potential Oscar-winning movie.”

Matt leveled his own smirk. “Ready to do me that favor now?”

“Now?” Shiro rolled his eyes. “What could you possibly want?”

“Other than a contract extension.” Matt reached behind the lounger and inside his bag. What he extracted, he slapped in Shiro’s lap

Beantown.

Shiro shrugged helplessly. “I’ve already read this.”

“Not everyone marries their high school sweetheart. Most people don’t, and most people don’t wait around five years for their loved ones to realize what they’ve lost. So read it _again_ – not as a potential pilot to a series. Not as an actor. Read it as if it’s a love note, written by a distraught lover who misses the other half of his soul with all his heart.”

A tired sigh escaped Shiro as he flipped through the pages.

“Final deadline is the end of the week to accept the role, or they’re offering it to another actor.” He grunted as he stood and shouldered his bag. “Gonna put my stuff away. What do you want for dinner? Italian? Sushi? Salad? Sign my contract extension.”

“You know you’re pushing it with the contract extension.”

"I know those rings you pretend you don’t have in your dresser drawer — they’ll fit better than you think.” Matt paused, hand upon the sliding glass doors. “Whatever you decide, Shiro, I’m behind you. Same with Pidge, Hunk, Lance, Ojiisan, and Mom. Keith, too. This is your life, Shiro. We want you to be happy.”

The script remained unopened in Shiro’s lap as Matt headed inside. “Fajitas!” Shiro called after him. “And don’t forget the guac!”

“When have I ever forgotten the—”

“June First, Two Thousand—”

“Don’t answer that!”

The script took up residence on the side table as Shiro finished his beer and went inside to change into sweats and a T-shirt. Matt dressed similarly and camped out on one of the sofas for fajitas and a movie. After Matt passed out from food coma, his snores echoing off the living room walls and his drool pooling on the throw pillow beneath his head, Shiro snapped a quick picture to send to Pidge and Lance with the caption, “Watch out, NYC!”

Then he took Matt’s advice and cracked upon the script. Rather than examining its nuances and messages, Shiro adored its feel-good energy with fresh lines and quick wit. He laughed over the comedy and explored the touching ending with the two main characters affirming their commitment to their partnership.

He paid special attention to the characters, to the sharp Detective Altea and the passionate love interest-slash-bad boy Mob Prince Sincline. He laughed at the banter of the officers and their CIs, but held his breath as he read the lines of Detective Ryou Hayashida, the handsome detective with a rebellious streak and a fervent need to do what’s right.

It was a role written for him to play that showcased his on-screen empathy and comedic timing. Keith even wrote in his struggles as an amputee and made sure to give him enough range to laugh as well as explore some of the darker emotions that accompanied a job in law enforcement. Coupled with his on-screen chemistry with Allura, Shiro could bring Ryou to life.

As soon as he finished the last page, he grabbed his phone and went out onto the terrace. Sendak picked up after two rings and spoke before Shiro could.

“I better get a recurring role.”

* * *

The executive producers chose the Atlantic Room at the Boston Harbor Hotel for _Beantown’s_ first table read. The wooden panels and thick columns created a regal feel, while the electric candlesticks provided elegant light across the ballroom. A massive U-shaped table dominated the middle of the room, positioned to showcase the wrap-around floor-to-ceiling windows that provided a majestic view of Boston Harbor.

A few executives visited a side table filled with a spread of pastries and refreshments, but Shiro showed up with two drinks from the corner coffee shop. He dropped one off at the seat next to Lotor but across from Allura – so he could play off Allura’s facial expressions during the read. Allura smiled and greeted him with a kiss upon the cheek while Lotor offered a warm embrace.

“I wasn’t sure you’d show up.”

“It was touch and go for a bit, but I had someone remind me of what I want out of life.”

“And what’s that?” Allura asked.

Shiro glanced toward the head of the table. “What everyone wants out of life – someone to share it with.”

The executive producer hung by the head of the table, along with the writers. Keith took the seat directly next to the producer and in a black undershirt and red over jacket, stuck out against the sea of suits and pale business casual. Shiro went to greet the executive producer, and as he passed behind Keith, who sat scribbling notes in the margins, he dropped the cup and twisted the message toward Keith to read.

Once the meeting started, Shiro watched Keith closely, even when the producer announced him to the rest of the room. The moment Keith looked up and caught sight of the cup and its message, Shiro’s heart throbbed. Keith’s cheeks flushed and his eyes sparkled as they locked on Shiro’s. Then he glanced away with a tiny, sheepish grin.

The first read went well, too well, in fact. All three major leads broke out in laughter at different times, right at the most humorous parts of the script. Keith and his team of writers scribbled away, and once or twice, Shiro read a line wrong that ended up leading to a revision. By the time the executive producer thanked them for their time and the assistants began to circle with shooting schedules, the atmosphere of the room had taken a charged, excited energy.

Despite what Sendak believed, this show was something special.

Shiro didn’t need to seek out Keith. Keith came to his side after the producer dismissed them for the evening. “Shiro, you’re here. You came.”

“Of course.” He hesitated before adding, “It’s good to see you, Keith. You look good.”

“Yeah, you, too. Thanks for the coffee. And the note.” He turned it just enough so Shiro could see what he’d written earlier.

 _Secret message about you._ was scribbled above the coffee collar, followed by an arrow to a pre-printed phrase on the cup. _Caution. Extremely hot._

Shiro knew it was probably too corny, but he couldn’t stop himself. He’d make himself a fool for Keith again and again.

“Got a minute?”

“Sure.” Shiro leaned back against the table, ready for notes and suggestions on the line reads, when Keith’s eyes bounced about the room.

“Uh, not here. Can we go somewhere private?”

Shiro followed Keith’s lead out the doors, down the hall, and onto a balcony decorated with golden and white sashes, lit by white holiday lights.

“I guess this is set up for something later…?” Keith muttered as Shiro shut the sliding doors behind him. Before Shiro could speak, Keith crossed his arms and stared him straight in the eyes. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Uh, do you mean on the balcony or are you talking about—”

“The Osaka project is almost a guaranteed Oscar nod, and you’re giving that up for some ensemble police dramedy set in _Boston_. You can’t be serious.”

Shiro blinked as his mind raced to catch up. “That is what you wrote my character for, right? To bring me home?”

“This is exactly why I didn’t want you to know,” Keith fumed, throwing his arms up in frustration. “You weren’t supposed to take this role for me. You shouldn’t have even considered this role. Matt should have minded his own—”

“Hey, who said I took this role for you?”

Keith stiffened. _“You._ Earlier. You said—”

“I said I was going to take it to be closer to you, to be closer to everyone, but I don’t take shit projects, Keith. I want this role. Ryou Hayashida is a dynamic, fascinating character I’m excited to explore, and the show features a diverse writers’ room that produces fresh, witty dialogue and dynamic storylines. Why wouldn’t I want to be a part of it?”

“Because I’ve seen your resume. You take blockbusters and raw indie flicks, anything away from the Boston area.”

Shiro rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, yeah, this is a diversion from my usual projects. I’ll give you that, but Matt and I discussed early in my career that we wanted more freedom. Movies film in three months or less. I’ve only signed a few sequels or trilogies, and you saw how the Beta Traz series went.”

“…but you commit to everything,” Keith wondered, eyes wide and questioning. “Why would you—”

Shiro sighed and fought himself not to brush his facial scar. “We didn’t know how long this would last or even if I would get past that first movie. Matt wanted to make me a movie star. I—I just…didn’t want to be looked at with pity anymore.”

Keith reached out to grab his metal arm, threading their fingers together. “No one looked at you like that.”

“ _Everyone_ looked at me like that,” Shiro whispered. “It wasn’t that I just lost my scholarship or my ability to play football or-or my arm. It was that everyone _knew,_ and everyone looked at me like I was something broken.” He somehow found the strength to smile at Keith. “Except you and Matt and the guys. And then I went to Hollywood and people started making a fuss. I guess I didn’t feel so…damaged anymore. I still don’t know what they saw –”

“Because you are physically incapable of looking in a mirror.”

Shiro snorted, though his cheeks suddenly burned. “But it made me feel…good. For the first time in a while. I didn’t think about losing my dream to work for the Galaxy Garrison and explore space. I could just be…me.”

Keith’s thumb brushed across Shiro’s knuckles. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“I didn’t want you to agree with them.”

“I wouldn’t have,” Keith assured.

“It was six years ago, Keith,” and yet it still hurt. If he closed his eyes, he could practically see Ojiisan and Colleen leaning over him at the hospital following the accident. Colleen barely held in her sobs, and Ojiisan brushed back his fringe, encouraging him to open his eyes. “I was nineteen. I didn’t know much of everything at the time, and you think I knew my boyfriend wouldn’t look at me like I wasn’t whole?”

“Missing an arm doesn’t make you less of a person.”

“Tell that to the people who can’t look me in the eye. Tell that to Kolivan who still thinks I’m wasting my life making movies. Tell that to the Galaxy Garrison who won’t let amputees into their space program.”

“They’re assholes.”

Shiro’s cheeks hurt when he smiled. “Thanks, Keith.”

Keith squeezed his hand. “But why come back now? This show isn’t that—”

“It _is,_ ” Shiro insisted. “It’s going to win awards, Keith. In fact, it’s so good, I almost didn’t take it because of that.”

Keith rolled his eyes, disbelieving Shiro’s words.

“I didn’t want to overshadow it,” Shiro insisted. “I-I was afraid that people would think I only took it because you wrote it, and then someone would say you got the show because of me. And I didn’t want that. Then Kolivan told me—”

“Don’t tell me.” Keith’s face scrunched. “I don’t want to know.”

Shiro let out a wet laugh. “Well, he put a lot of things into perspective, and…I almost didn’t come back.” When Keith’s hand went slack in his, Shiro held on. “You’ve done so much for me. You went into astrophysics for me. When I left, you switched your major to creative writing. You’ve done nothing but follow me into every endeavor I’ve ever had. You shouldn’t base your entire existence around me. You deserve to have the life you want, whatever that may be.”

Keith’s lips pursed, dimpling his cheek, and then he sighed. “Whatever Kolivan told you, it wasn’t everything.”

“That’s okay.” Shiro squared his shoulders and raised his head to meet Keith’s eyes. “I told you I didn’t need to know what happened when we were apart, and—and I should have meant that. I’m sorry for getting mad at your mom’s place. If you didn’t feel comfortable telling me, then that’s on—”

“I went to Arizona,” Keith blurted. “I completed a year at the Galaxy Garrison, training to be a pilot.”

Shiro’s heart thundered in his chest. “What! How? When?”

“When I was twenty? Twenty-one? I was in my second year at Marmora University when I requested a transfer, and it was granted in my third year. I went down there to finish my astrophysics degree and begin training for space missions.”

“What happened? Why aren’t you there? God, Keith! How could you give up that opportunity?” Every dream they ever had—Keith could have been living them all. “You could be in space right now!”

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t be there.”

“That doesn’t matter!” Shiro’s fists shook, and his breath caught in his throat. “Keith, _you_ shouldn’t be on this balcony. You deserve to be – ”

“I’m right where I want to be,” Keith said, and in the lights of the brilliant cityscape, Keith’s eyes sparkled. “I left after my third year, came home, and switched my major to creative writing. I wanted to do something to win you back.”

“You didn’t have to win me back. I just wanted you.” Shiro’s hand slipped from Keith’s suddenly loose fingers as Shiro laid everything out on the table. If Keith could be honest, he would be, too. “It took me awhile to accept it, but I thought you were right, back then. We wanted different things, and you were being responsible. We should break up and move on. It makes sense.”

Keith crossed his arms and placed all his weight on his back heel, ready to flee. “So that’s it? You came all the way here, accepted the role in _Beantown,_ just to tell me we shouldn’t be together?”

“No. I had wondered if that was what you were doing, by not telling me about _Beantown._ ”

“I told you I wanted you for this.” Keith took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for the worst. “The role was written for you, Shiro. _I_ wrote it for you.”

Shiro’s eyes stung, and he didn’t care to will the tears away. “I know. I read the pilot again, and that’s when I realized that you missed me as much as I missed you, and maybe – we shouldn’t be apart. That we don’t need to stand on our own but instead actually be there for each other. That maybe I wasn’t the only one who lost his way after that accident and needed a little help finding it again.”

“It took me awhile, too,” Keith admitted, stuffing his hands into his back pocket. “I…I was devastated when you left, first for Hollywood and then for good. …I even knew it was coming, and I just—I just didn’t know how to move on. And then I saw you didn’t either. I—” He raked a hand through his bangs, messing up the top of his braid. “I never thought you needed me as much as I needed you.”

“Of course I did, Keith. I _do_. All I ever need is you.” Shiro inhaled a heavy, wet sigh. “Krolia wanted to give you stability by sending you Marmora, but stability isn’t always a place. It can be a person, too. And for me, that’s you. It’s always been you.”

Keith’s mouth dropped open, just enough for him to whisper Shiro’s name.

“When I left Marmora, I was okay that first year because you were still behind me. Returning home to you was my favorite part of the job. I wasn’t lying when I said the best show I’ve ever watched was you at the café. I’d help you clean up and watch you lift chairs for the rest of my life, and I’d be happy.

“But…if that’s not what you want, then I’ll leave, Keith. I’ll break the series contract, take the penalty, and let you go once and for all. I-I want to be around Pidge and Mom and Ojiisan more, so maybe you’ll have to share Marmora with me. But I’m leaving the decision up to you rather than making it for you. I want to include you, Keith, in every part of my life.”

Shiro slipped a hand into his pocket and steeling his nerves, pulled out the velvet case. He bent down on one knee and opened the box, revealing dual meteorite and platinum rings.

“Keith Kogane, will you marry me?”

Keith’s blown wide eyes looked like the cosmos, mystic and ethereal, and Shiro wanted to get lost in them forever. But Keith broke his gaze first, looking down at the rings, then at the balcony and its lights, and then back to Shiro with tears in his eyes.

“You…You planned this?”

“It’s taken about seven years and a lot of different scenarios, but yeah. I wanted it to be perfect.”

“Seven years?” Keith echoed, breathless.

“Uh.” Shiro couldn’t believe he was admitting this. “I went to speak to Kolivan and Antok after you graduated high school. They wouldn’t give me permission back then. Said we were too young and maybe we were but how I feel about you has never changed. And it never will.”

Keith’s voice broke as he held back the sobs. “I’m going to need some time.”

Right. Sure. That made sense. Keith had said that he didn’t know what he wanted, and Shiro shouldn’t have tried to force him to commit when he wasn’t ready. He tried to hide his disappointment behind a quick sigh. “Of course. I-I understand. Take all the time you need.”

Keith cradled Shiro’s cheeks between his hands, brushing back the tears he hadn’t known he shed. “Good because it’s going to take me all of eternity.”

Before Shiro regained his footing, Keith fell to his knees and crashed his lips against Shiro’s. Shiro closed his eyes, opening his mouth and melting against Keith. He tasted salty tears and chai and home. Keith was Shiro’s home, always would be, and after losing his balance all those years ago when he left the café in an uber, Shiro felt his world right itself again.

He sighed against Keith’s lips while Keith’s fingers gripped his polo shirt and pulled him somehow closer. When they finally broke, Shiro pressed his forehead against Keith’s, needing to keep him close.

“Don’t leave me again.”

“Back at you.”

A light flashed, and Shiro immediately mourned Keith’s heat when he looked toward the balcony door. Matt lowered his phone and smiled. “Let me post me this online. You cannot deny me this!”

Shiro sighed and pressed his forehead against Keith’s, unable to stay apart from Keith any longer. “If Keith’s good with it, I’m good with it.”

“It’s fine,” Keith laughed, his focus taken completely by Shiro again. “I’m kinda surprised you didn’t put the ring in my coffee cup after what you wrote on the side.”

“The thought had crossed my mind.” Shiro pecked Keith upon the lips, then the cheek and ghosted kisses along his jaw. “But even that’s a bit too much, even for me.”

Keith’s hands wrapped about Shiro’s neck, pulling him even closer. “Says the guy who carried around a set of rings for seven years. What would you have done if I said no?”

Shiro shrugged. “Broken the contract and signed on to do Fruit-of-the-Loom commercials exclusively.”

“Hm. Sound backup plan, but I guess it’s a good thing I said yes, huh?”

“Sure, but you get to tell your uncles.”

Keith rolled his eyes and leaned in for another kiss. “I think I can live with that.”

_To be concluded..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm about halfway through the epilogue, so that'll probably be up after the holidays. Thanks for reading, everyone!


	8. Epilogue: The Perfect Blend

Keith glanced at his cell phone for the fifth time in the last two minutes. “We’re going to be late.”

From his folding chair on the sidewalk, Shiro looked up as the make-up artist reapplied his foundation. “We’re not going to be late.”

“We need to be there.”

“And we will be.”

Keith looked at his cell phone yet again, and without pulling away from the make-up artist, Shiro placed a hand over Keith’s and squeezed. “Keith, we’ll make it. I promise.”

When Keith’s eyes still shook, Shiro flashed him a warm grin. Keith responded as Shiro hoped, rolling his eyes and letting out a loud sigh, accompanied by a tiny smile.

A hand clasped Keith’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Kogane,” Lotor assured. “We’re professionals. Two takes. That’s all we need.”

“Two takes?” Keith raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Reminds me of Paris, remember?” Allura broke from her conversation with the director to tap her fingers along Lotor’s forearm. Dressed in her cut-off black leather jacket, tighter-than-tight jeans, and calf-high boots, Allura channeled her inner bad ass. A fake badge hung from her belt while a long white tail trailed down her back. Her dark sunglasses completed her transformation into Detective Fala Altea in _Beantown._

“I say we can do each take a second apart,” she said.

Excitement tingled in Shiro’s gut as he thanked the make-up artist and grabbed his own leather jacket off the back of his chair. “Hopefully Lotor won’t fumble his lines again.”

“I didn’t—”

“Oh, honey, I was flattered.” Allura petted the side of Lotor’s cheek. “I know you were nervous about kissing me for the first time.”

“I wasn’t—”

Shiro snorted. “You were.”

“No one asked you, Shirogane.”

“Shiro, was Lotor nervous to kiss Allura for the first time?” Keith asked as he fell into Shiro’s vacated seat.

Lotor sent one last glare toward Keith as the director called the actors back to the filming area. “You should be glad I like you, Kogane, or I would make you late.”

Which they couldn’t be. Shiro had promised, and true to his word, they finished the flirtation scene between Allura and Lotor with Shiro playing the worried best friend in two, quick takes. Shiro sent a production assistant for his car, and he and Keith were heading over the Tobin Bridge less than thirty minutes later. Allura and Lotor followed, also set to attend the family get-together.

The parking lot of Marmora University was filled by the time they arrived, so Shiro jumped the curb, parked in a field and with his hand in Keith’s, made a mad dash for the university’s arena. Pidge texted where the family was set up, and they slipped into their seats on the arena’s floor as the marching band began to play “Pomp and Circumstance.”

“Cutting it close there, guys,” Matt chastised, dressed in a formal suit. He looked Shiro up and down. “And nice of you to dress up.”

“Hey, you’re supposed to negotiate my days—”

“Shhhh!” Pidge interrupted loudly.

When Keith opened his mouth, Hunk placed a tiny brownie in his hand and whispered, “Better keep your energy up. Lance is one of a thousand graduates. Here, have one, too, Shiro.”

“Shiro?” the women in front of them with pearls and a pink top turned in her seat. “Are you really Takashi Shirogane? _The_ Takashi Shirogane from _Beantown_ ”

A low rumble sounded through the nearby crowd with quite a few gasps and whispers, and he managed to plaster on his professional smile. “Yes. Thank you for watching.”

“I absolutely love your show. Hey, can I take a –”

“Excuse me, ma’am.” Hunk leaned between Shiro and Keith, holding out his box of brownies. “Would you like one? They’re made with milk and dark chocolate.”

That women reluctantly took one and turned around in her seat, letting out a loud moan of appreciation. Shiro mouthed, _Thank you,_ but Hunk just winked.

The crowd itself wouldn’t be deterred, and by midway through the ceremony, a good line had formed near their chairs for autographs. Shiro managed to keep the selfies to a minimum, and when Lance was called, he took a break to cheer for his soon-to-be brother-in-law.

Keith and he left a few minutes after that, led by Matt who bribed a security officer to let them exit through a fire door. They met up with Lance at his after party at the Blend of Marmora.

“Thanks for coming, man,” Lance said, drawing Shiro into a tight hug. He patted Shiro twice on the shoulder before letting his hand linger there. “I know it’s not easy with the –”

“Hey. You’re worth it.” Shiro clasped Lance on both shoulders and held his gaze. “Getting your masters and working your way through school – that’s impressive. Don’t be a stranger, y’know? With your new job in New York, we have to make sure to stay in touch.”

Lance shot him a challenging grin, despite the tears glistening in his eyes. “No need to worry. It’ll take more a masters to get rid of me.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“What about you?” Lance glanced over his shoulder to see Allura and Keith testing some of Hunk’s special graduation creations, and sure enough, Hunk was indeed denying Matt any sweets. “Got everything figured out now?”

Shiro sighed and rubbed his naked fourth finger with his thumb. “Getting here. Thinking about getting a degree at Emerson or B.U.”

“Yeah? Looking to study astrophysics again?”

“Actually, I was even thinking a B.A in Cinema & Media Studies. Maybe see where my career began and how I can help make an impact now.”

“Wow. That’s great, Shiro. So you’ll be working your way through school, too.”

Shiro laughed and glanced about the Blend’s packed house. “I hear there’s an opening here. Maybe I’ll put in an application for the assistant manager role.”

“After what you do in the back room with the owner’s nephew? I don’t know…”

Shiro’s face burned, but he persisted, nonetheless. “You were right, y’know. About why I came back to Marmora.”

Lance’s smile was nothing short of cocky. “So what you’re saying is – you owe me for your eternal happiness.”

“I wouldn’t go _that_ far.”

“I would go as far as to say I might need a two-bedroom condo in New York for about…oh, a few months while I settle in.”

“I’m glad you asked.” Shiro wrapped an arm about Lance’s shoulder and called across the merriment, “Matt! Lance is staying at your place for the foreseeable future.”

“What? Why!”

Shiro smiled. “I got Pidge to hack your phone. Either you let Lance stay at your place or there might be quite a few pictures on the Internet tomorrow.”

When Matt blanched, Lance whispered to Shiro, “This is payback for the whole ‘throwing your personal life onto the Internet’ thing, isn’t it?”

“Totally, especially since Pidge refuses to hack Matt’s phone for me. Says she won’t use her powers for evil again. I have to get my revenge somehow.”

“And I’m your revenge.”

Shiro smiled. “Lance, your morning regiment has five different creams. You explain them as you put them on. Yes, you are my revenge.”

“Glad I’m good at something,” Lance grumbled, but Shiro wrapped an arm about Lance and held him close.

“You’re good at a lot of things, Lance, and I can’t wait to see what you do next.”

* * *

Shiro tried his best to ignore the nagging feeling in his gut as February came around, but it kept getting the better of him. Keith promised him forever, wore a ring before they were even married, and shared an apartment with him in Boston. When they went home to Marmora, they either crashed at Ojiisan’s or Kolivan’s, but they rarely spent a night apart.

There was absolutely no reason for Shiro to be nervous as the Oscars neared.

Shiro had been asked to be present an award, so he couldn’t skip the event. It would be awkward for one of Hollywood’s hottest actors – even if he was now living in Boston – to be absent. He needed to be there for his career, even if his fears got the better of him.

Keith seemed to understand his anxiety and called Matt to make sure he booked them on the same flight. He arranged their rental car, their suite at the nearby Loews, and packed his bags and left them at the bottom of Ojiisan’s stairs leading up to the event.

Even in the limo headed on the way to the red carpet, Shiro was a bundle of nerves. Keith was here, next to him, dressed in a pristine tuxedo like a character straight out a James Bond flick. Shiro could barely catch his breath just looking at him, but he also couldn’t stop his hands from shaking.

Keith took them in his own, thumb swiping over the trembling knuckle. “Hey, babe. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know.” Shiro did know that. “It’s just…the last time we were together, this…us…we were supposed to do this, and we broke up. What if it’s too little, too late?”

Keith laughed and leaned over to press a kiss to Shiro’s cheek. “I’m in the car. We’re almost there. I don’t think it can be a too little or too late.”

“What if – ”

 _“Shiro,”_ Keith breathed with all the patience he could muster. “We were hit by a drunk driver. My mom came back into my life. You went and got famous and filthy rich in Hollywood. Going to an award’s ceremony for people who pretend to be other people will be easy. Trust me.”

Shiro inhaled a sharp breath and let it slip through his lips. If there was one person in the world he trusted, it was Keith.

“There’s…something you should know,” Shiro said. When Keith turned and looked at him with patient eyes, Shiro found the strength to confide, “Our last Oscars – the one where you dumped me. I was going to propose to you.”

Keith’s eyes flew wide. His hands clasped Shiro’s cheeks, silencing him immediately, and then lips crashed into his. Shiro paused, then melted into the embrace, eventually breathing through his mouth when Keith refused to release him.

“I would have said yes,” Keith murmured. “We were too young, and it would been stupid and hard and all that. But I would have said yes and not regretted it.”

Shiro leaned forward to capture his lips one more time. “I know. I’m sorry I didn’t ask.”

“You did eventually. That’s all that matters.”

The limo pulled a stop, and an usher opened the door on Keith’s side. With one last tiny smile, Keith stepped out into the world of flashing lights and screaming fans. Shiro exited behind him a moment later and stood at the edge of the red carpet, ready to make their way through the reporters and TV personalities. He looked at Keith, ready to see the look of horror or at least fear. Instead, Keith’s eyes widened as if overwhelmed, but then a hesitant smile found his lips. He looked up at Shiro, kind and true, and put out a hand. Shiro accepted it greedily and followed Keith through the throngs of celebrities and photographers.

What Shiro wasn’t ready for was one of the first questions.

“You two have been the Hollywood power couple since you took Tuesdays nights, nine p.m.,” said the reporter. :So Shiro, Keith, when’s the big day?”

Shiro snapped on a professional smile, ready to sidestep, but Keith answered first, “March 20th.”

“Oh, wow! So soon! What made you pick that date?”

They hadn’t. They’d spoken about when they would get married. Allura nagged him for a date, and Lance kept teasing him that he and Pidge would get hitched first. Of course, Lance would have to propose, but that seemed like a minor detail.

Keith squeezed his hand and smiled, expression brightening as if Shiro was the sun. “It’s the vernal equinox. New beginnings, renewal, and I think that fits Shiro and my relationship perfectly.”

Shiro wasn’t sure if they broke the record for the longest kiss on national TV, but it must have been close. Any lingering anxiety vanished as Keith’s fingers threaded with his and refused to let go. When Keith joined him and Allura on stage to present the award, hands melded together, Shiro spoke first into the microphone.

“We just set a date for our wedding. Ojiisan, Mom, March 20th!”

The crowd cheered, but Shiro barely heard it as Keith’s beaming smile drowned them all out. Perhaps after chasing Keith all these years, he finally caught up.

* * *

The town closed, and Lance’s family helped to heave massive tents across Marmora’s main thoroughfare. Keith insisted on inviting the entire town, and Shiro had just assumed everyone would attend. With winter’s breath hanging in there, they set up heaters away from the buffets, somehow agreed to Lance’s demands for a dancefloor, and decorated every storefront with twinkling lights. Allura, Lotor, and Sendak stayed at Ojiisan’s house, while Keith welcomed his uncles, Ulaz and Thace.

Every detail was planned, down to the flowers on their tuxedos, when Shiro entered the Blend of Marmora after closing. Kolivan was finishing up, wiping down the espresso bar, so Shiro went for the chairs and began to lift them onto the tables before mopping the floor.

He’d washed half of the seating area when Kolivan finally spoke, “You want my blessing.”

Shiro stopped in mid-swipe and met Kolivan’s stern gaze. “Yes.”

Kolivan sighed and tossed his towel upon the counter. “Did it ever occur to you that you don’t need it? Keith’s twenty-four. He’s an adult now, capable of making his own decisions. If he chose you, then I have no say.”

“But your opinion matters to Keith. Very much.”

Kolivan retreated to one of the refrigerators and pulled out an ice coffee. Twisting it open, he poured half in two cups and offered one to Shiro. “Takashi, once Keith makes up his mind, there’s no changing it. And I could argue that he chose you the moment you stepped into the café and stumbled through your drink order.”

Shiro tried to will the heat from his cheeks and when he failed, lifted his coffee cup to hid it. “So nothing I can do will ever win your approval?”

Kolivan reached over and put his hand upon Shiro’s forearm, holding him warmly. “Who said you lost it?”

“But in California—you said I should—”

“All I’ve ever wanted was for Keith to be happy. I thought him launching a writing career would do him well, but I was wrong. It’s not the show that makes him happy. It’s _you,_ Shiro.” Kolivan rested both his hands upon Shiro’s shoulders and squeezed. “And despite what you may think, I also want you to be happy. Are you, Shiro?”

“More than ever.”

“Good. Then welcome to the family, Takashi.”

As Kolivan pulled him into a strong, encompassing embrace, Krolia snorted as she exited the back room. “I think that’s my line.” She followed Kolivan’s hug with her own.

* * *

Despite the hoopla, Marmora managed to keep the wedding out of the paparazzi’s gaze. The town gathered at quarter past one, and Shiro and Keith met at the alter as snow flurries dusted their hair. They stood so close that their foreheads almost touched, and when they spoke, tiny clouds filled the space between them.

They wore simple black and white tuxes with Shiro wearing a gunmetal tie while Keith wore a bright red one. Long, cashmere topcoats kept them warm, along with leather gloves and long scarves, and Shiro found Keith’s rosy cheeks and nose adorable.

When Ulaz asked Keith for his vows, he cleared his throat, settled his feet, and then looked up at Shiro with a gleam in his eye and a tremble in his hands.

“There really isn’t anything to say that I haven’t said before. I love you. I want to be with you. If that’s here in Boston, great. If it’s across the world, that’s fine, too. Anywhere you are is home to me.”

Keith nodded to himself, as if proud of his vows, and Shiro’s heart fluttered.

Straightened his shoulders and letting out a tiny sigh, he tried the best to articulate all the emotions swelling within him. “Keith, we talk about what we would have done differently if given the chance, but there’s one thing that I would never change – and that’s you. You’re everything to me. I’m not sure if you know that or if you believe it, but I promise to spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

It might have them longer than either wanted and they didn’t take the road Shiro thought they would, but they stood at the altar, wedding bands warm on their fingers, surrounded by their loved ones, in the town where they shared so many first.

Shiro wouldn’t trade it for the world.

* * *

_Three years later_

Marmora High School served as the regional campus for the nearby towns, and with less than five hundred students, it offered the essential after-school activities and little else.

During his time there, Shiro joined most of the clubs – from the football team to the art club to even the drama club. Though he enjoyed playing sports, he’d joined the art club for Keith and the drama club for Matt, though looking back, he wondered why Matt ever joined. He never even graced the stage.

Shiro banished the memories from his mind as he exited the car, Keith by his side, and entered the updated school grounds. Keith wore Shiro’s old leather jacket and a pair of decent jeans since the school asked the Career Day attendees to dress in their work attire. Shiro decided to go all out for the occasion with a full tuxedo, complete with black bowtie and satin cummerbund. He also made sure to bring some personal items in his side bag.

He might have had an ulterior motive.

“I wonder if Ozar patrols the grounds during the day,” Keith muttered as they rounded the bend to the main office.

“Hm. I know what you mean.”

Keith cocked an eyebrow, arms crossed with skepticism. “Yeah? How so?

Shiro tugged on the edge of Keith’s waistband. “I love a man in uniform.”

“My ears!” Lance screeched from doorway, dressed in pressed jeans, a top, and sandals. “My innocent, innocent ears. Have you no shame?”

Keith flipped him off as a gruff clearing of a throat caught their attention. “Mr. McClain, Mr. Kogane, please. You are both adults now. _Act like it._ ”

Yet, Keith and Lance’s heads dipped as if there were teens in high school again, and they mumbled together, “Yes, Mrs. Sanda.”

Principal Sanda stepped forward in her long skirt and dress top, her curly hair now gray, her eyes still stern and piercing. “Ah, Mr. Shirogane, so good of you to join us this year.” Thank you again for the funds for the new gym. The students are just overwhelmed by your generosity.”

“Well, anything I can do to help, just let me know.”

Mrs. Sanda laughed nervously, brushed a lock behind her ear, and then led Shiro down the hall, a hand upon his forearm. “Perhaps we can discuss new computers for the students? Or iPads? Technology these days, it gets outdated so fast.”

Keith glared at the hand wrapped around Shiro’s bicep. “Perhaps we can talk at the end of the day?”

“Of course, of course. We want the event to be a success first and foremost.”

Round tables cluttered up the middle of the library, the tablecloths in the alternating colors of the Marmora Blades – purple and black. On each table was a folder, a flower, a notepad, and a pen, and almost half were occupied with Career Day guests already. Ms. Sanda showed them to their tables before excusing herself to greet the next set of arrivals.

Shiro felt Keith’s narrowed and accusatory eyes followed her long after she left.

Shiro swung to Keith with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. “A little jealous of Mrs. Sanda? You think I have a perchance for the school marm?”

“I think you enjoy when the school marm fawns all over you.”

“Do I? Hm.” He wrapped an arm about Keith’s waist to pull him close, lips hovering just before Keith’s. “Maybe if you tried it once and a while –”

Keith’s hands clapped over his cheeks. “You’d get a swelled head, and I like yours the size it is.”

“Do you? Maybe you should show me how –”

“It really is like high school all over again,” a snickering voice interjected, and Shiro tensed immediately.

“Be nice,” Keith warned, but Shiro still fisted his hand in the back of Keith’s jacket as he turned. He plastered on a beaming grin.

“Throk, hey. Good to see you.”

To Shiro’s dismay, Throk only grew more handsome as time went on. Donning a collared shirt with a long coat, pressed jeans, and polished shoes, he looked like he’d just walked out of a fashion magazine. He even slipped his hand into his pocket and flashed an easy, “come-hither” grin.

“Hey, Keith. Good to see you.” His grin dropped away. “Shiro.”

“Hey, Throk,” Keith replied with a swift warning elbow to Shiro’s gut. “You came again. How’s the business going?”

“Well. It’s going well.”

“Is it now?” Shiro allowed a challenging smile to over overtake his face and dipped his hand into his bag. “We’re doing well. You might have heard.”

“I have. _Beantown_ is a great show. I watch it every week.-”

“I’m glad. You must know –”

Keith’s eyes rolled up toward the ceiling. “Please tell me you didn’t – ”

“—about my Primetime Emmy Award for Outstanding Lead Actor in a Comedy Series? And of course I didn’t bring it, babe.” Shiro pulled out a different trophy. “I brought my Oscar.”

Keith let out a disparaging sigh. “Of course you did.”

“From that UN movie.” Throk nodded, seemingly unaffected. “It was a bit long but good. Congratulations.”

Throk was an absolute jerk for acting all calm and collected. Shiro released Keith’s jacket to pull a second trophy from his bag. “Actually, I brought my Emmy, too. Sometimes I work out just lifting them.”

Keith gripped both his arms and tugged them down. “Don’t, and he doesn’t. He doesn’t work out with them.”

“What is it you do again, Throk?”

Throk yawned but managed to reply, “I was a financial advisor in New York for a bit.”

“Sounds boring.” No doubt Shiro made more in the last year than Throk did –

“That was before one of the companies had went public with an IPO about two years ago. Now I’m a banking investor. I generally spend most of my day working on my antique car collection. Sometimes I bake.”

The trophies in his hands suddenly became very, very heavy. “Yeah? How much did you make last year?”

Throk shrugged. “I don’t know, actually. I don’t keep track of it anymore. I made $30,000 every minute…last time I checked.”

Shiro’s mouth became dry, and he turned wide eyes toward Keith. “You seriously picked me over him? I would have picked him over me.”

“Yeah, but Theith or Kerok doesn’t sound as good as Sheith as a celebrity relationship name, does it?” Keith offered, hands tight around Shiro’s wrists.

Now Throk’s face tensed. “I’m right here. I can hear you.”

Shiro sighed. “But babe – ”

“I love you, Shiro. We’re married. We’re been together for almost a decade. Don’t you think you can stop being jealous already?”

“I don’t want either of you, y’know,” Throk said with an incredulous tone. “Never did.”

“Can you blame me?” Shiro asked, dropping his trophies to one of bookcases and gripping Keith’s hips. “You’re hot. You’ve always been hot.”

“And almost all of the world wants to sleep with you, yet I trust you to be faithful to me. Don’t you think you can trust me to be faithful to you?”

Shiro sighed and wrapped his arms around his husband’s waist. “Yeah, of course, I trust you…but I’m pretty sure Throk that just ran off with my Oscar. Excuse me, babe. I have to go tackle him.”

As Shiro passed, he felt a distinctive stinging on his backside. Yup, his husband just slapped his ass in the middle of Career Day, and of course, Lance caught it and squawked.

* * *

“So what’s this super-secret movie you brought with you this Saturday, Lotor?” Pidge asked as she settled onto the middle cushion of Ojiisan’s couch.

In front of her, mounds of food occupied the coffee table and various other pieces of furniture. Lance lay across the couch with his legs across Pidge and his feet in Matt’s lap while Shay and Hunk settled in the chairs. Shiro and Keith nestled on the love seat as they always had, though Black now purred in Shiro’s lap and Cosmo rested across their feet. Allura and Lotor sat in front of the couch and stacked their plates with portion after portion.

“Allura and I aren’t…proud of this project, but after speaking with Shirogane, we felt you all would enjoy this.”

“Enough suspense!” Lance cried, hugging a pillow over his stomach. “What movie is this?”

Matt sat up straight in his seat, excitement brightening his face.

“It can’t be…is it? They actually finished it?”

“Unfortunately,” Allura sighed. “The studio just chose to never release it, which is a gift in and of itself.”

“What is it!” Hunk demanded, inching closer in his chair.

“ _Back to Beta Traz_ , the third installment in the Beta Traz series,” Lotor proclaimed.

Pidge, Hunk, Lance, Keith, and Matt all shared a look before letting out a cheer. Shiro, himself, just sighed and pulled Keith closer as the credits began to roll.

It was good to be home.

_The End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, everyone!


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